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  • davegregson40
    davegregson40 Community member Posts: 83 Pioneering
    Austin Macauley publishers London office 020 7038 8212. Submissions can be online too. The Fiction Desk is an independent publisher which you submit online.  I think there may. e a £3 fee, not sure.Olympia Publishers 0203 755 3166. London office. I also reccomend Writers Forym Magazine because they often have details of competitions.The Peoples Friend are good and they do things old school, you get the address of head office then post the story with covering letter. Some but not all publishers do charge an advance payment, which in theory you should earn back but please just check first. I was lucky with my timing.Pegasus Publishers had just advertised for short childrens stories and I happened to have some that I had written and ready.  Getting a proof reader can be a good help too. 
  • LP004
    LP004 Community member Posts: 25 Connected
    Here is one of my short stories.  Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
    Lenise

  • LP004
    LP004 Community member Posts: 25 Connected
    Here is one short story I wrote.
      Honest opinions please.
    Double Take
    By
    Lenise Page
    c 1987

    “You’ve given birth to the most beautiful twins, my dear. They need special care now, but they will be fine. It’s a shame you having them adopted as you’ll never see them grow up.” The midwife told the young, unmarried Mother.
    When Aileen heard those words she felt a twinge of pain as she’d wanted to keep them, but was only putting them forward for adoption because her parents forced her to. A few days later, two nurses were talking about the twins and one said, “One of the twins has a home, at least.”
    “Oh, which one?”
    “Lucille. The couple only want one child so little Gertrude will be put in an orphanage.”
    “Poor little mite. Personally, I don’t think they should be separated.”


    Detective Lucille Easton walked in the Lansdown Police Headquarters and was informed that the Chief Superintendent was holding an urgent meeting. Once all the Detectives were in attendance, he displayed the Gloucestershire Echo of the previous evening. The grisly headline read, “MUTILATED CORPSE FOUND IN RIVER.” The Chief
    Superintendent told his audience, “The corpse is female. Her skull has been smashed in which makes identification impossible so we’ve got to go through the missing persons records over the past month or two. We should know how long she has been dead soon which narrow down the workload somewhat. Meanwhile, I want everyone on this.”
    Nothing relevant was found, but the phone call Lucille took at the beginning of her shift the following day was worth looking into. She told Paddy, her partner, “That was a Mr. Whittington. He has reported his wife missing. Apparently, she hasn’t arrived home from a long weekend trip. She should have been back three days ago. I’m checking it out.”
    When Mr. Whittington and Lucille met, his reaction took her aback, he went pale and backed away, “YOU! Keep away from us.”
    “Sir?” Lucille asked in confusion.
    He raised his voice, “Just get away and stay away. You have done enough damage.”
    Lucille recoiled as the door was slammed in her face.
    Back at the Police Headquarters, she met Chef Inspector Clifton who commented, “You look pensive Lucille, anything I can help you with?”
    “Oh,” she looked up at him, “Miles away, Sir. I was just wondering about this Mr. Whittington I've just visited ….” she told him what happened, then added, “I've got to wondering if I look like someone the Whittington's know if ….” her voice trailed off, “Oh no, it couldn't be. Too much of a coincidence if it is.”
    “May I know what you're thinking of?” he asked.
    “It may be nothing Sir, but can I check the Criminal Records before I say anything?”
    “Of course you can.”
    “One other thing. If I'm right, may I do a reconstruction, please?”
    Although puzzled, he told her, “I'll talk to the Super first. Let me know what's going on soon, will you?”
    “When I have all the information, yes Sir.” Lucille conceded on one point as she told him, “All I will say at this juncture is that I think there's a connection between Mr. Whittington's phone call and the murder. I feel his wife is the victim. I don't know why but,,,,”
    “You have a gut feeling.”
    “You could say that, yes.”
    Before she searched through the criminal records, she'd asked Paddy to phone Mr. Whittington and find out why he had called and, if possible, about any family he had of his own. The file under the name Whittington told her what she suspected was
    correct, and combined with what Paddy told her later on confirmed her suspicions about Mrs. Whittington being the murder victim!
    She thanked Paddy for his help and told him she had to see
    C. I. Clifton. As she was leaving the room, he was coming in and they walked into each other. They apologized. Lucille spoke first, “May I do the reconstruction Sir? I have all the
    information I need to do it.”
    “Yes. When do you want to do it?”
    “Tomorrow is Thursday, isn't it, so I'll do it then. After which, all will be revealed,” she smiled at him as she went back to her desk to pick her case up, “Cheerio. I'll see you both tomorrow.” She smiled and left.
    Lucille Easton took the last known movements of the victim. Calls came in alleging she was with the victim in a taxi, she was seen hitting Mrs. Whittington still other callers alleged, whilst others said that she had been seen dumping the body. Lucille groaned when she was told of these allegations. “I think I'd better tell you what I found out about the Whittington's, hadn't I?”
    She was sitting in front of the Chief Superintendent and C. I. Clifton as she spoke, I looked through the records for the name Whittington and found the one I was looking for. Before I go into that, I'll tell you what Paddy told me what
    Mr. Whittington told him yesterday,. He told Paddy during the conversation that he and his wife adopted a girl of ten from an orphanage. She was one of twins, apparently, and when the
    Whittington's adopted her they changed her name from Gertrude to Susie. The twins were born on the twenty-fifth of May nineteen fifty four in Essex. They needed special
    care, Everything about Susie fits with my start in life. Susie, I believe, is my twin, We were separated soon after birth because the couple who adopted me only wanted one child. I asked my parents about my twin and I. They had told me that I was one of twins and as they only wanted one child they adopted me. They told me that little Gertrude had been put into an orphanage until the age of ten. When a couple named
    Whittington adopted her they changed her name to Susie.” Lucille shifted in her chair
    as she leaned on the desk, “Now, I'm working on the assumption that seeing as I look
    like the person seen with Mrs. Whittington, it's just possible that Susie is my twin, and she's the one we are looking for.”
    “Supposition, surely?” Both men chimed.
    “No Sir, I don't think it is.” she countered, “This is where the file comes into its own.
    Susie Whittington has five assault charges against her, all of which were brought by her Mother. One of those assault charges resulted in a six-month prison sentence.”
    “Aha, that put things into perspective, but what does it prove?” C. I. Clifton asked.
    “Nothing. Not yet anyway, but you haven't heard the most interesting part yet – Susie
    Whittington was released on the day the murder took place, before it took place.”
    “So, what are you proposing to do now?”
    “Well, bring her out into the open then....” Lucille's voice trailed off as she thought of a plan of action.
    Both men asked in unison, “Okay, what's the plan?”
    She told them. It was simple but effective – not in the expected way, though.

    The following headline “DETECTIVE ARRESTED FOR LOCAL MURDER” appeared in
    every paper locally and nationally. The story was also on the TV news and radio. As Susie Whittington saw and heard the news on the TV she gloated over the fact that
    she wasn't under suspicion. She poured a glass of Gin and swallowed it down quickly following it with another. Susie resented the fact that she'd spent her formative years
    in an orphanage unloved and, all intents and purposes, unwanted by anyone. As a child she used to cry herself to sleep. She dreamed of the day when someone would come to the orphanage and choose her to be their own little girl to love and cherish. Meanwhile, she thought of her real Mother and wondered if she was alive or dead, if she wanted her or not, if so, why was she in the orphanage? The day Susie dreamed
    of came true when she was ten. She thought she had found a “real Mum and Dad” when the Whittington's came along wanting a child of their own. It was only when adoption had been finalized that she began to get bullied by her “Mum”. Often times, she was beaten black and blue if “Mum” was in a black mood, being left with cuts, bruises, and black eyes. On one occasion Susie was kicked several times then thrown
    across the room resulting in a broken arm and collar bone. “Mum” explained it away by saying that Susie had been riding her bike when she went into a wall. Susie vowed she would get even one day – she hadn't meant to do what she did, but she didn't feel much remorse
    Susie Whittington went to her Mother's funeral in order to see her Father. She wanted to explain why and how it happened. The Police were amongst the mourners.  Susie was in disguise so that no-one would recognise her. Her Father looked at her without recognition. Susie stopped him from leaving the graveside with the others
    saying that she had something to tell him something. When they were out of earshot she hugged him, crying on his shoulder, “Oh Dad, I'm sorry”
    He tried to push her away as he said, “YOU! Keep away. I don't want -.” Susie got his arm in a vice-like grip as she raised her voice, letting everyone know who she was by what she said, “You'll listen to me Dad. If you don't it'll be the last thing you refuse to do. You never did listen to me, did you, even when I tried to tell you that she was beating me up. She used to beat me when you weren't around. Often I nursed cuts,
    bruises, black eyes, cut lips. Remember the time I had a broken collar bone and arm, Dad, she told you that I'd ridden into a wall? Well, she did it. She kicked me and threw
    me across the room and I landed on the fender. I went to prison for assaulting her, but what happened to her for beating me? Nothing! You want to know why I did it?
    She broke my marriage up, I saw red and thumped her one. When I got out of prison, she was there to meet me. She was gloating. I tried to get away by getting into a taxi,
    but she got in as well. Even in the taxi she had to tell the driver I'd been in prison and she even told him why. Suddenly, I saw red and shouted at him to stop. I paid him and got out. She got   out as well. That was her fatal mistake. We had a blazing row and - “ her voice faltered as she choked back threatening tears, and it was then that I struck her face, knocking her down. It was then I saw the brick – I – I – picked it up and
    hit her again and again until – her face wasn't there any more. After that, things are hazy but I remember vaguely rolling her body out of sight and then making my way home.”
    “Oh Susie,” her Father wept for her, “I wish I'd listened -.”
    Susie interrupted him, “Shh, it's too late for that now. All I need to know is that you love me, that's all.”
    He could barely speak, “Susie – I – always – will. I -.”
    That was all Susie needed to hear. A smile spread across her face as she kissed him on the cheek. She looked up at the small crowd and looked at each person there. Her
    eyes met Lucille's, “You're a Policewoman, aren't you?”
    Lucille swallowed hard and blinked as tears welled up in her eyes. “Yes Susie.”
    Susie and Lucille gazed at each other for a couple of moments, both feeling hurt –each in their different ways and for different reasons. Susie walked toward Lucille,
    “I'm ready to come now that I've said what I need to say, and heard what I needed to hear. Don't put the cuffs on, please, I'm not going anywhere.” she looked at Lucille again, “She wanted me as an unpaid farm hand, you know, whilst Dad wanted me as a daughter to love and cherish.”
    Lucille hugged Susie as tears fell down the faces of both women, “Oh, if only we had never been separated.”
    Lucille then led Susie to the waiting Police Car.
  • Lucy411
    Lucy411 Scope Member Posts: 74 Courageous
    JaneCambs said:
    @Lucy411 thank you for your kind words. I tend to write as a means to cope 

    No problem. I'm glad you're writing helps you but I hope you enjoy it too :smile:
  • LP004
    LP004 Community member Posts: 25 Connected
    @JaneCams 

    Yes, writing is a great way to cope with most things.  
    I have also taken up knitting.  I never thought I would be able to do an Aran jacket although I purchased the pattern and the wool.  It took me about 8 years to finish it..  LOL,  After many tears (literally) and starting it, pulling it undone, starting again.  You get the picture.  When I moved to Staffordshire, my sister patiently taught me how to knit it.  With her help I managed to finish it in 18 months.  Seeing as I hadn't knitted anything for over 50 years, I reckon that's pretty good.
    Now I am knitting another jacket (not Aran) for the Autumn.  My brother in law asked me,  "Which Autumn?"  So I will show him that it is going to be this one.  LOL.

Brightness