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Emerging Writer Member Profile

Emmet J. Driver

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Member Bio:

I am bookseller for Dubray Books, as well as an aspiring author, screenwriter, blogger and part-time jack-of-all-trades.

I have written articles and essays on a broad range of topics from Dyslexia to Constitutional Law. I have a Bachelors in Film & TV Production from Ireland's National Film School, and have written, directed or produced multiple award-winning short films.

I'm also involved in theatre, both on and off stage, working with the Dalkey Players, among others. I currently live in Dublin with my long-time boyfriend/fianceé.

Writing sample

An Exract from "Of Sight and Time", Chapter 12: Tim, an agorophobic teenager forced out into the world bearing a dire secret, is being pursued by an assasin Robwyn, whose freedom depends on the kid's death...

“Run!” he shouted, and Tim obliged. Guards swarmed past them, as they continued to the port. They were only a short distance away from a wide avenue lined with tall buildings. Tim could hear the clashing of steel behind him and knew they were still being pursued. His entourage stuck with him, pushing people aside as Tim and Haye ran behind them. They had made it between the first buildings when a woman screamed loudly. Tim looked over his shoulder and saw the hunter pulling himself up onto the roof of a nearby building.
Who is this man? Tim thought as the hunter began running along the rooftops, starting to catch up.
Haye must have seen him as well because he bellowed, louder than Tim thought possible; “Crossbows!” Bolts flew up at the man, but he was moving too quickly. Ahead the port was coming to sight. A line of stalls set up in front of the lift, causing a queue to form in front of them. The soldiers continued to push past, knocking aside travellers who had probably been waiting patiently for some time.
Tim couldn’t look back as they charged forwards. They cleared the line of buildings and entered the port proper, then Haye gave a shout and shoved Tim aside. The hunter had leapt off one of the buildings and landed with his sword in one of their entourages’ heads.
Tim had time to remember the man’s name, Bretin, before he was grabbed by Haye and thrown forward. “Get him onto the lift and go!” he shouted. The hunter was up and was dispatching two more of Tim’s entourage. Haye’s right-hand man, Fredrick, pulled Tim to the lift as Haye turned and bore down on the hunter. Tim could still hear them fighting as he rushed past the ticket stalls and got onto the lift. “Get this thing moving!” Fredrick yelled with a resonance to rival Haye’s. Tim felt a knot tighten in his stomach as the lift started moving, he hoped Haye would be alright.
As if to answer his question there was a scream and a guard who had been at the top of the left staircase plummeted to the canyon floor. Tim could see his hunter racing down the steps, trying to catch up to the lift. “Faster! Or I’ll have all of your heads for the First-Minister’s wall!” Frederick shouted. The lift sped up and the canyon wall became an orange-red blur alongside them. As the lift plummeted down it was all the man could do to keep pace.
Another two guards attempted to bar his way and they too plummeted to their deaths. He’ll keep killing until he reaches me, Tim thought. I have to end this. Casting aside his fear and his self-doubt, he unpinned the billowing cloak and let it get caught in the wind, flying away. He drew the Lord-Marshall’s sword and began calculating the distance between the lift and the winding stairs, quickly compensating for the speed of the lift.
“Sir?” Fredrick asked nervously.
“Someone has to stop him,” Tim said, “if he’s still alive when we reach the bottom; tell the ferry to leave immediately.”
“But how will you get on it?” Fredrick asked, confused.
“I can jump very far,” Tim responded, then taking a few steps back, he ran to the edge of the lift and leapt, landing heavily, but balanced, into the stairwell alongside. He had time to pull his sword up and point it at the turn in the stairs when the hunter dived around it, stopping abruptly at the sight of Tim.
“So,” he said, in a voice like leather, “finally decided to stand up for yourself.” He raised his sword and grinned at Tim cruelly. “You been running a long time boy,” he spat at him.
“I’m not running now,” Tim said as he charged forwards. Their blades caught each other at terrifying speeds, and though Tim could keep up, the man had the high ground and Tim was slowly being forced downwards. Sensing another bend behind him he spun around it attempting the throw his opponent over the edge, but the man caught Tim’s arm, and nearly threw him out the side instead. Tim brought his sword towards the man’s head, but he released him and caught the hit in a parry.
“You’re very good,” the man panted, taking a step back, “if this is what the kids can do in the Tower I would have loved to fight one of the grown-ups.” He began his assault again, quickly driving Tim down to the next bend.
Tim felt the wall behind him and pushed off it, diving past the hunter and down the next flight of stairs. He caught himself on the rope rail attached to the inner wall and turned to once more catch a killing blow before it could hit him. He hoped to reach the bottom soon, as he continued to fend off attacks and climb lower.

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