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It was a hurried exit from the flat. Burning the toast, setting off the smoke alarm and flying out of the front door. A lateness detective looking for evidence would have noted the hasty tying of shoes, on the wall by the front gate, mouth still chewing on the remains of buttered toast. Verbal expletives expressed dropping the car keys on the pavement. A jamming of the car seat belt, causing further delay. Clues aplenty, about being driven by lateness. Planning the future. Visualizing, imaging a parking space before you set out. As you arrive , a car pulls out, or a space appears spectacularly, in a row of cars. Reserved, prepared for you, by some cosmic helper. There were occasions, when this worked for me. Not today. It was too late to prepare for what was now the present, as I drove into the packed station car park. it meant an excursion to the very end of the park. and a squeeze into a space by the railings other drivers avoided.
The station clock’s minute hand on the platform caught my eye, as it jumped to eight twenty – six. This reduced anxiety. My train was due at eight – thirty five. I went to the waiting room. A recent boxed shaped addition. Inside, rows of tables with bench seats. On the far wall, a poster, of a train, hurtling through lush countryside with the bold claim, ” you can escape the crowd, relax, you’re on track,” running across the top. I sat in the corner next to a window, with my back to the poster. The table height, ideal for leaning on to scroll my Tablet. I intended to access the Head Office website, but became distracted by a cut – price holiday advert. It was a recent discovery of mine that broadband was available, in this corner of the Waiting Room.
The door clicked. I looked up. A young woman, I guess, in her early twenties entered, in blue leather coat and a shoulder bag. Hair, sort of encased in a woollen hat. Without looking around, she came across, and oddly asked,
“Is this seat taken?” As if we were already in a train compartment. Not really seeing then why in an empty Waiting Room anyone should want to sit opposite me. I rationed my answer to –
‘No.’ I considered it wise to pretend to be absorbed in the advert, although I glanced across, as she sat down. She placed the fingers of her hands, momentarily together, but then lowered them, before placing her elbows on the table with hands held to cheeks. I noticed there were no rings on her fingers. Deep blue eyes transmitted a pleading look.
‘That’s a neat looking tablet.’ she said. ‘I’m disturbing you. I expect you want to be alone.’ She leant back with finger nails on the tables edge, but leant forward again, with a smile. Her eyes registered that overt interest level, which men can be reeled in on. The woollen type of beret she deftly removed, and dropped on the table. Blond hair tumbled down, to shoulder length. A shake of the head made it fall into place.
‘Would you mind accessing a site for me?’ she asked. The batteries flat on my I pad. Could you enter this? Don’t worry I have a code.’
‘Yes, that’s not a problem,’ I said. My curiosity, as to why a code was required, over ruled by that compliance technique women can use, when a sap, like me, finds them attractive. The strap curled away from her shoulder as she picked up her handbag. Its clasp clattered on the table. From a pocket, she produced a laminated card, with large type, showing a string of numbers and letters. Longer than my mobile phone number. After facing it towards me, to read, pink nail varnish visible, I was already, in my mind, questioning my helpfulness.
-” Where was this going?” – But, as if she read my thoughts, she reassured me, by saying,
‘It’s only, a family message.’
‘Lower case,’ I heard myself ask, while her friendliness and perfume abducted rational male decision making.
‘That’ okay, you’re very kind,’ she said. I didn’t expect to see a video screen. A script appeared. A man’s clear voice began, but then stopped to synchronize, with text appearance. Timbre, not unlike that of the woman’s, but more authoritative and announcing
“You are now entering Real Time and exiting Earth Planetary zone time.”
A momentary pause. The pulsating glow from the moving script, brightened, as if in receipt of a more powerful energy source. I’d never seen such luminosity on my Tablet before.
” The script will now run independently,” the voice, said. I looked for a person, in the room, because the voice was no longer coming from my Tablet. It seemed to be near, where I was. The woman moved her arm, along the bench behind and turned towards me.
‘We already know you, everything will be all right,’ she said. This statement kindled in me the memory, of a captor who reassured a prisoner, when in an interview room, who had no chance to escape. I was unconvinced , about everything, being “all right.” Although, the Waiting Room appearance looked unchanged, it felt like its existence was moving away. I could not move my legs.
That dream sensation where you cannot run away had taken hold. Although I could see and move my hands. I took a deep breath and held it before letting it out. The woman said,
‘Do not worry we are not here to harm you,’ which creepily worried me more, because although I couldn’t see any person, I felt a powerful force holding me to the bench seat. I looked at the screen and there were moving pictures, which showed a life biography alongside the script – mine. That voice restarted, but with details about the solar system. Details, about specific sectors, quadrants and the positioning of Venus and Mars relative to the earth. This alien woman’s face became animated, whilst listening to the data, although meaningless to me. Frightening because the script described my motivations on a review basis. Acceptable when good. Other times it depicted me as arrogant and oblivious to those around. Not a flattering ghost written biography, but the truth! That’s really scary, who wants the world to know the unedited truth about your life? I was already considering who else could gain access to this. Total strangers with access to my life details. Yet, I didn’t feel this woman was a representative from St Peter or the other place. There followed laughter
‘I find you amusing. You are right I am not a being from either of those places.
‘Incredible,’ I replied. Now trying to hold back outright panic.
‘I have some explaining to do. My name, it has been decided is Adriana.’ What did that mean, my name it has been decided , by what or whom? Not a name I was likely to forget, in a hurry. She continued.
‘Where do you think you are?’ This seemed like a dumb sort of question.
‘I’m sitting in Stroud Waiting Room , waiting for my train, of course,’ I said. A leather belt around her coat, slipped away, as she stepped away from the table and raised arms and opened the coat, which revealed a pink mini dress and tanned legs. Her arms, once horizontal, opened further, giving appreciation of feminine form. This distraction most likely intended to ensure my interest and attention. She turned, more directly toward me, smiled, hands with fingers spread, palms rotated to face down. I felt that the room and essence of my being there, now, was subjected to powerful control. Her arms ,as they lowered, cancelled the light from the windows, and left only light from three ceiling ones.
‘Now,’ she said, as she sat down opposite me, once more,
‘We are no longer in Stroud, we have entered “REAL TIME.” – we have informed you of this. You were listening, were you not?’
‘Yes, but, where are we?’ And in a pathetic little voice,
‘How am I going to catch my train?’ She ignored that question.
‘Real Time, is the ability we have to make your time, elastic. We can retrieve past events, and we can extract from a time frame, for purposes of research. We are able to convert molecules into constructs of our design and determination. Hence, we have kept for you the same environment,’ she said in speech fashion.
‘Thanks,’ I said, as if being handed, an unwanted drink, but thinking it was wise to go along with the situation. Beginning, now to feel like some organism, but with consciousness, in the petri dish of a scientist.
‘It is because you are ordinary, a plausible individual, James. You do not mind me calling you by your first name, do you?’
‘No, but I’m not so keen on the ordinary, plausible description.’ She seemed amused and smiled, before asking,
‘Do you find me attractive, James ?’
‘My feeling is that you know that,’ I replied. ‘You reliably access whatI’m thinking ,’I said.
‘ I expect you understand matters like heightened pulse,’ I said, attempting to elevate my ordinary status.
‘We can intercept your neural pathways and access thought activity before you are aware of receiving it. That is true. That feeling of attraction in the human race, we have difficulty understanding. You were younger when we contacted you on previous occasion. You appeared, James, uninterested in your opposite specie type, the female.’
‘That’s not true, when did you contact me?’ More, that my life path meant I never met many of the opposite specie, as you put it.’
‘I must return to our purpose,’ she said. The man’s voice, repeated, “Return to purpose.” Which made me re – consider, who, or what else, was listening to this conversation.
‘We need to enlist others to assist in breaking the news of our presence to the human species. This is part of evolutionary progression for humanity.’ Which, made me feel like some abstract commodity, but I kept quiet.
‘Your quest to explore other planets, cannot be achieved, without our assistance. We can transport people to the Moon, but also make life habitable, on Mars. You — James, have been selected to promote this information. Representatives, around your world are being selected to do this work. It will save many, now on Earth, and secure a safer future for your species.’
‘But I may not want to be your Noah,’ I said.
‘You remember this event then,’ she said.
‘Not exactly. It’s just embedded in our religious culture. Hey, I’ve only been here twenty – five years.’
‘We could take you back to the beginning of your human race.’
‘No thanks, I’ll pass on that,’ I said.
‘There’s more explaining to do,’ she added hastily. ‘Now that we’ve made contact , we need to allow this knowledge, to develop within you, before we proceed. We believe, you, James, will soon want to be part of this progression, when we reveal risks to future Earth generations. We do not expect you to fully understand, yet. I will allow you to catch your train. We believe you will want to know more. We will revisit.’
‘What! Here, how?’ I asked. This Adriana creature laughed.
‘You are not anywhere, you are outside time and place,’ Now twirling blond locks together, and burying them back, into that woollen hat. It occurred to me that it was something like a military beret. I was not convinced , as they say, that she came in peace. There was no mention of a star command fleet, yet. This did cross my mind, which she picked up on.
‘No, in time, you will understand we come in peace,’ she said. Those were her last words, before arms and hands, faced upwards. Moved, in a reverse procedure, now making the window light reappear. Evidently, with her mission accomplished, that was it. I’d wanted to ask more questions, I realized. The guile. That capturing of a man’s attention, enticement, persuasion, all made me believe, Adriana, was an actual woman, but how could this be? Footsteps, could be heard coming down from the metal stairway, outside. Adriana, turned, smiled and waved at me, whilst leaving, via the Waiting Room door. My tablet, showed the picture clock, at eight thirty.
“The train, now arriving at platform one, is the eight thirty – six for Swindon,” came from the platform loudspeaker. I switched my Tablet off, placing it in my inside pocket, before standing up and walking towards the door.
First appeared, in short story form, in 2015. Later became a chapter( re-written) in Galactic Mission – Part one, 2017, Begins James Walters encounter with Adriana – ” The Empress of Earth and all planets circling the solar system.” (A Part Two, Galactic Mission is near to publication 19/09/2020)
This story, appears, rewritten as a chapter in Galactic Mission by Sam Grant. An early short story entry, before publication of the complete science fiction novel, in 2017
Extract story from – MISTS OF TIME Sam Grant 2018.
Good book shops can supply. Please give title/ author and ISBN
ISBN 978 -1-78222-620-8 Waterstones online. amazon.com/author/grantsam
Paperback, hard cover and Kindle unlimited editions
There’s no doubt, there’s a big leap, from that arena of words on paper to dialogue about your novel. One discovery, that can be made, is that your reader can take ownership, which is positive, but can be in conflict with your imagined portrayal of character, situation and intended response.
This can move forward to where a reader will tell you that in the sequel, you the author, must resolve, injustices to a character and make sure perpetrators are brought to justice! Myriad other aspects exposed for scrutiny. Interpretation is subjective. Author remembers, how, a fighter pilot, related that one movement in a Beethoven symphony, reminded him of landing his fighter plane on a runway. Not sure author’s novels engender such dramatic interpretation. Every reader, will decide how they view a particular character – and this might not necessarily relate to authors intended effect.
Galactic Mission Part Two, begins with a character list. Similar to that of a cast list in a play. Galactic Mission (2017), did develop around ideas around a play, which the author acted in, but characters in the novel are not related to this play. New story line includes characters from Galactic Mission (2017) plus new ones. There are historical characters introduced, similarly to aboard the airship, in first Galactic Mission (2017) and chapters which include group members from the first novel. There’s a possibility of a chat about Galactic Mission part Two on Radio Somerset.
State of play. Final corrections have been submitted and a front and back cover are in preparation. Will keep readers posted with further news.
Best wishes, Sam Grant – Author name of Colin Coles. 8/09/2020.
A first ollie
dances; turns; twists;
body; muscles; arms; legs; feet.
with practice to gain control;
no needed dependance
on another person’s skill.
Carve; heel flip; kickflip;
I master these and
acquires more skill.
A forward adventure,
to control at will,
fast rolled wheels.
Tailside; tic tac;
my freedom from fall.
practice, evolving skill.
Freedom is a
be part with me.
Skate board skills.
Performed at my will.
A poem chosen for ” Imagined Interlude.” 31/07/2018
Subsequently published in author’s – Mists of Time
Part One – begins with epic poem – Mists of Time.
Poems both in traditional and modern form.
Dramatic but also light – hearted topics explored.
Part Two – short stories.
Individual cameo Chapters
Kindle, paperback and hard back editions.
Waterstones online have a listing. Amazon. At: –
Sam Grant, Author
Atlantic Hijack – Action, Mystery novel.
Author, has supplied copies for readers of Sea Breezes. September, 2020. Atlantic Hijack and River Escape.
Publisher has advised author, that copies can be dispatched to readers direct, with requests and payment made through author. At email: email@example.com
A discount of two pounds on retail price, plus two pounds forty, postage and packing for each novel. Postage and packing charge remains the same for two.
Amazon, at present, supply Persuasion’s Price. 9/09/2020
There are Kindle editions for all books on Amazon, 12/09/20
Contact enquiries at: –
email : firstname.lastname@example.org
Available in Print and Kindle editions.
URL amazon.com/author/grantsam Good book shops will supply.
Waterstones online list Sam Grant books.
River Escape – Part two, but complete story.
Available in Kindle and print editions.
At URL amazon.com/author/grantsam Good book shops will supply. Please
give ISBN Waterstones online list Sam Grant books.
Dancing on the Beach by Sam Grant, Romantic thriller.
Available from good book shops. Please give ISBN from back cover.
Waterstones online have a list of Sam Grant editions.
Poems with themed notes
Also available from good book shops:
Please give ISBN from this back cover. 21/08/2020
Galactic Mission – science fiction.
Galactic Part two is due release this summer, 2020.
At URL amazon.com/author/grantsam
First published in 2017. Good replies received from readers at Promotekdbook.com. A Part two is now with the publisher. Waterstones online can supply Sam Grant books.
Mists of Time – back cover.
Mists of Time: A hard cover edition was produced in 2019, following on from public libraries interest. British Libraries requested a copy of both Atlantic Hijack, which has global reviews, and Mists of Time in early part of 2020
Point of interest. The author is working on a third maritime novel.
Also possibilities for developing latest novel Persuasion’s Price into a stage play – with adaptations.
Persuasion’s Price – mystery thriller
First published 2019. At URL amazon.com/author/grantsam
Kindle and Print editions.
Good book shops will supply. Please give ISBN from back cover, as shown below – Persuasion’s Price by Sam Grant. Waterstones online also list and Book Depository. 21/08/2020.
Book Title: Write to Unite – all together now. Poem chosen for publication this September, 2020.
allowed one walk.
Trees are near to leaf;
here and there.
We enjoy still
It is an episode
but nature follows
Our lives need
to find resource
for home activities,
that once we left,
and rushed to work –
school; all busy, busy.
Now to listen, not just talk,
with family members,
who were in our lives,
but more in passing
To talk on phone;
give Face Time
or maybe Zoom,
to meet a group
that we were part
before locked out.
To make routine
a daily round that
secures each day,
yet gives time for interest shared.
those who bravely work,
in hospital, supermarket
and everywhere to keep
the life blood tick of care,
provision for all of us,
now at home to
slow, stall and finally
At Home in Lockdown – was chosen on 4th August, 2020 for inclusion in Write to Unite – all together now Scheduled for publication this September, 2020.
Poems from previous chosen submissions appear in both Poems with themed notes and Mists of Time at URL amazon.com/author/grantsam. Good book shops will provide a print edition. Please give ISBN
Poems with themed notes – ISBN 978-1-78222-464-8 Print cover in matte finish.
Mists of Time – ISBN 978-1-78222-708-3 Hard cover edition
A third in maritime series is in progress, but author has plans to adapt – Persuasion’s Price into a stage play. This might well go forward before the completion of the novel. On occasion it’s good to step back from a project to allow time for a plot to kind of ferment. Plots, themselves can be prone to adaptation, or complete change, author has found. Recently, read that a particular author, said that she was unable to focus on other writing, whilst in the throes, if that’s the right expression, of writing a novel. From, author’s perspective, other writing is required to allow development, in writing of all description. Be it novel, short story, play, poem or just plain old blogging!
There’s frisson over pre – publication of a novel and that’s now! In depth writing appears to slow, whilst a novel, awaits in the wings, near to publication. Although, it can be, that others, see novel writing, as a leisure activity, which is pursued alongside, viewing a Netflix series, for example. This author has never found writing, a simplistic exercise in repetitive skill. Each novel/story/poem /play makes unique demand with a need for research and correction, often times to achieve narrative, character flow and depiction. That’s not to forget chapter ordering, that works in the storyline and other detailed requirement.
An adaptation from novel to play for Persuasion’s Price will mean a complete re -look at scene location and likely story re -write to accommodate the confines of a stage portrayal.
Yes, it might be said – remarked about a new film of a novel – “that it’s nothing like the book.” Similarly, play portrayal, for Persuasion’s Price will likely not be quite like the novel!
Every journey is different, is a much stated remark. There’s truth in that statement. With a novel there are defining stages, in a process toward publication. Final manuscript submission aims to reach a high standard with little alteration required, once a PDF is produced. This author can testify to not always meeting the highest submission level. Galactic Mission (one) involved significant re -write and adaptation toward actual final manuscript. Publisher was, very supportive, in this situation. Hopefully, author ability, in this arena has improved for Galactic Mission – Part two, a sequel.
Editors let loose on a novel can destroy all spontaneity and authenticity and leave a bland, dreary text, which will meet every professional edict, but fail to gain a readership. Experience with Wikipedia, where author’s original text was edited forty times and ended up as computer newspeak. Yes, only a machine would want, or be able to stomach the tedium of reading it! The article no longer belonged to the human pen. Author, withdrew from responsibility for end result. Knowledge transmitted, now engorged in computer kingdom, no doubt.
Meanwhile, Galactic Mission Part two, is in sample copy, for early chapters. Finalization for whole novel is progressing. Cover and description to be decided, but a final manuscript, prior to streaming is underway.
Meeting with Junior Minister
Anton, could see a positive future. Provided, that he secured a contract with the Department of Transport. This would mean further legitimate recognition for his fund, with endorsement by government, plus, a Saudi Arabian contract, through the British Embassy, meant that under the wire deals by his father could soon be ended, hopefully.
A tinted window Range Rover, from the company’s stable was selected to visit a junior minister at Heron’s tower. Anton would be accompanied by Carin Hanson, who assisted with preparation and tying up of loose ends. Dual roles. Personal Assistant and chauffeur role, rather than just in PA appointment to the boss. A Range Rover was a stretch away from Formula one, but it was an opportunity to be away from more mundane matters. That, she wore a chauffeur’s cap, like a drill sergeant, who drove a highly ranked military person, was not what Anton envisioned, but he valued Carin’s eyes and ears when she removed chauffeur cap and transferred to PA role. This chauffeur position happened after Henry retired. His position was as much handyman and goffer, as that as chauffeur to the boss. Carin’s female colleagues made a fuss of our ‘enry and staged an office party with poppers balloons, cakes and crackers. Henry, moist – eyed said that he’d miss everyone. It was next day when Carin finalized a directors meeting with Anton, that she said,
‘Mr Carter. You’ll need a new chauffeur when I travel with you to meetings. I can’t do the handyman side of it, but I’ve contacted a reliable guy from check – a -trade for that part of Henry’s role. I can set it all up, if you’re agreeable?’ Carin possessed that PA skill, where pre – plan usually meant fait accompli. A boss then manoeuvred into agreement, almost immediately.
‘I’ve no objection to that. If you’re happy with that and it’s not impinging on your PA role. But I can’t pay Henry’s salary.’ Anton, was about to leave for golf and was in an agreeable mood.
‘I’ve thought about that Mr Carter. I visit my dad once a week. That’s on a Saturday and I like driving, but there’s no point in owning a car. Company cars don’t go anywhere at the weekend.’ Anton was sending a message to his golf club, but replied,
‘And you would like the loan of a car? Yes that’s okay, but you’ll need to sort personal insurance and I’d like the same petrol in the car on its return?’ He replied. Exactly the answer Carin was looking for.
‘That’s really good of you Mr Carter.’ Later on, a crossover belted jacket and cap were chosen. Organized by Carin. When she obtained approval for the pre- selected cap and top, Anton said
‘Quite happy with a match of trousers, Carin, if you want. Go with the cap and top.
‘I’d prefer to wear a skirt when driving a luxury car Mr Carter, if that’s alright with you. I can put the cap away and transfer to a PA role more effectively.’ Anton, was not going to disagree. Apart from leg appeal from a man’s perspective, Carin’s personality was softened when she wore a skirt. Previous trips were mainly to company investment directors. It was Carin who suggested Heron Tower as a meeting place after she noted that Zircon National Distribution had acquired investment in the building. A message to the concierge enabled her to reserve an apartment for the Department of transport’s junior minister. Research revealed that the minister was from ordinary origin and not Eton educated. Unaccustomed to lavish living, but likely to be in awe of a penthouse suite. His entourage given the apartment from Tuesday to Friday. This gave opportunity to prepare for Anton’s meeting on Thursday. It was not sufficiently high powered to require attendance by the Minister of Transport. Carin deduced this to be the vibe back when she first arranged it. Anton, unknown to Carin received a mobile number from his father, to contact associates, on arrival. Disguised as a cleaning firm, who were visibly at work on the floor of the suite selected. Carin checked that the penthouse was in the name of Zircon Distribution, with no mention of government connections. It was probable that security deemed this necessary, and she was able to talk the under manager into escorting the two of them to this south penthouse suite. When they stepped from the lift into the corridor, which led to the apartment, two capped male cleaners were machine buffing an already highly polished floor. Only Anton noticed the tap of the cap. Carin counted seven, eight, nine on the doors before they arrived at number ten. Outside the door numbered ten, she whispered.
‘That could be wishful thinking.’
The under manager discretely knocked on the door occupied by the junior minister and entourage. Anton’s appointment was for eleven. A woman, in a navy suit, opened the door. Looked past the under manager, who stepped to one side.
‘Is that Mr Carter?’ The door opened into a hallway.
‘I’m Jane Albright, secretary to Tom Draycot.’ Carin did the introductions.
‘Mr Anton Carter and Carin Hanson. I’m PA to Mr Carter.’
‘Good to meet you sir. Tom has been so looking forward to see you – please follow me, won’t you.’ A polished oak door led into a dining space. There was a shuffle of papers, as they entered. Tom Draycot, junior minister walked from the head of a long dining table, requisitioned for their meeting.
‘So pleased to meet you Mr Carter. At last we meet. Spot on time. A smile in Carin’s direction.
‘Carin’s my PA. Here to take notes and see that I ask the right questions and give the right answers.’ Tom Draycot shook hands with Carin and held Anton’s hand, momentarily longer, before he responded with,
‘Might I call you Anton. Everyone seems to know me , as Tom.’
‘Fine, by me, replied Anton.’ His secretary drew back two chairs next to the head of the table and opposite a floor to ceiling window. Before she sat down next to Anton, Carin said,
‘What a fabulous view. Might I have a look?’ A question directed more to Anton. There were silver mounted binoculars in the alcove window, which overlooked the City. Tom Draycot, replied.
‘Of course. It would be a shame to visit and not have a look.’ A civil servant’s raised eyebrows caused glasses to fall down her nose. Six places were filled with government officials, but the contract was already prepared to cover all eventualities by lawyers and accountants from each side. Forty per cent government funding, against sixty per cent from Zircon. Departmental view was that with Anton’s responsibility for private investment they could reliably expect a dividend return. State intimation that monies raised could then be returned to local authorities to get them on side.
Tom Draycot led Carin over to where the white binoculars were on a raised plinth and adjusted their angle..
‘There, that takes in the main landmarks,’ and drew back to allow her a view. He then called out.
‘Daphne, our guests would probably like a coffee. Would you be so kind?’ A much younger woman than the civil servant with glasses stood up and smiled at Anton.
‘That would be great,’ replied Anton, relieved that Carin was working her charm with Tom Draycot.
‘I would like black with one sugar. Carin, white coffee without sugar thanks,’ He smiled across at Daphne, who left to make the coffee. A door opened to a kitchen on the right. Another similar door was on the left of this penthouse dining room.
By the time Carin returned, from viewing the panoramic view, Anton was skimming through contract papers, already set out on the table. Everything moved forward a pace. Tom Draycot was a keen golfer and conversation drifted into merits and demerits of particular golf clubs. Carin, meanwhile accessed facsimile documents electronically, to ensure that Anton was signed up to the correct agreement. Anton, previously yellow highlighted crucial paragraphs. A shoe nudge under the table, startled Anton. She dutifully smiled and said,
‘Okay, they’re okay.’ In all the process lasted no more than twenty minutes, before documents were finalised and signed by both parties.
‘Very good to meet with you and the lovely Carin,’ said Tom Draycot. Carin feigned a grateful smile. Yet again, his remarks elicited a look of disapproval from the glass wearing civil servant.
‘Must dash, they want me at the House for a crucial bill, to allow the ban of diesal in all town and city centres. It won’t go through, this time, but it’ll move the debate along.’ This appeared to be a signal for most to leave, bar Jane Albright and three others.
‘Mr Carter.’ Jane Albright looked up from an iPad, that was angled, on front of the table.
‘There are other department officials who would like to speak with you. Carin, may stay here with us. As she spoke the door, to the left opened. A tall shaven headed man, in a blue suit, which failed to hide a muscular frame, stood with hand out stretched.
‘Can you please step this way Mr Carter. I cannot reveal more, at present.
‘They have clearance from the department, it’s alright. She gave a half -smile and turned towards Carin.
‘Would you like another coffee? Mr Carter will be a little while.’ Carin, appeared to be startled.
‘Don’t go anywhere. I won’t be long,’ said Anton, to reassure her and walked toward the door.
-end of Chapter twenty – three – Persuasion’s Price by Sam Grant.
PERSUASION’S PRICE. MYSTERY THRILLER.
Available, on Amazon Kindle with further chapter preview. Paperback edition is also available through Book Depository and Waterstone’s online. Good book shops will provide.
But Please give ISBN 978-1-78222-687-1 Persuasion’s Price by Sam Grant.
The hands, activity of minds;
reservoirs, digital communications;
that which we readily
accept day to day;
not always giving thanks.
To provide menu for living;
for man, woman, child.
takes for granted
the action of the many;
from daily toil;
heat, light, water;
material ingredient of life.
To provide for now and
in the cycle
of forming birth.
To understand that it’s
the work of many;
all equal in regard
for one Perpetual Mind.
Thankfulness be given,
determinedly in all ages
to all true presence
of care and understanding
to quiet the troubled mind.
A poem from – Poems with themed notes Sam Grant
Thankful Thoughts contains within the poem, a theme that implies existence of the Creator, but also recognition that, human hands, minds and hearts strive to build, repair and maintain the structure of our material existence. The growing of crops, animal husbandry, water workers, road builders, transport workforces – over land, sea and air – and the oil industry, which has transformed our lives by providing ready energy from oil exploration and discovery. There are so many work forces, which contribute to our day to day existence – all of these mentioned and many more besides deserve our prayers and thanksgiving.
Sam Grant ISBN 978 – 1 – 78222 – 464 – 8
URL amazon.com/author/grantsam – also, available from good book shops.
Please give ISBN at book shop – Preview poems are available from Kindle edition on Amazon.