Charles Heath's writing blog

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.   Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the Second World War, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.   And, so, it continues...    ... One of the sentries came running into the church, out of breath and clearly agitated. Blinky looked at him.  “What is it, man?” “The reinforcements, sir.” “Theirs or ours?” “German.  Staff car, a panzer, and two trucks with soldiers. He looked at me.  “That’s a little over the top, or have you been more of a pest than usual?”  He sighed.  “How many men are in the castle” “Twenty plus, but this is not unexpected, just a little sooner than I was told it might happen.  it simply means th

A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.  For instance:       And, then, the words:   ... Everyone always wants to change their circumstances, particularly if you are among those who are not so well off. My father always said, whenever we complained about not having enough money to go on holiday or buy something we needed, that there was always someone worse off than we were. As a child, I could hardly believe that was true when it looked like everyone else had everything they wanted. As an adult, I promised myself that I would never be in those circumstances and that I would always have enough money. And, of course, what you want, what you would like, and what really happens are very different outcomes, and no matter how much planning, and how many contingency plans you have in place, a single event can wreck everything.   When you open the front door and see policemen, two thoughts cross your mind.  The first, they're at the wrong place, the second, that some

Here’s the thing...   Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.   I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.   But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.   Once again there's a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.   ... I had expected to find the rocks we were slowly and carefully chambering over to be smooth, worn down by the constant washing over by the waves. They were, to a certain extent, but there were places where the jagged edges were as sharp as a knife, and I had more than one cut on my hand. Even with the stiff breeze coming in off the water, it was still hot, laborious work and it took over an hour to reach the first part of Sandy Beach, a thin strip below the rock line, and soaring behind it, a rocky cliff face that would require rock climb training to scale, and then notwithstanding a lot of safety gear. It didn't surprise me that Nadia wa

I'm back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written. The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I'm not very good at prioritizing.   But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn't take long to get back into the groove.   Chasing leads, maybe     We took the elevator down to one of the basement levels, and then along a long poorly lit passageway which in my estimation had taken us to another building. It would not have surprised me if it had been part of a large underground complex used in the second world war, safe from the overhead bombing raids.  Certainly, a lot of the fittings and paintwork looked very, very old, and I could imagine armed soldiers stationed along the length of the corridor each in his own little cutaway. At the end, the building was a lot more modern, and bright. There was a large open space, and we headed towards one of the corners where the walls had wallpa