Emerging Writer Member Profile
I'm Irish and live in Japan with my wife and four children. Japan is our home, but I grew up on the west coast of county Clare. I've only started writing a few years ago and I've a lot to learn, but I love the experience and the reaction I get from readers.
I'm in the process of rewriting a series of crime books. The first of which is finished and is on Inkitt. Hope you enjoy.
Psycho in a Mask:
The bright morning sunshine beamed through the large windows of the bank, reflecting on the polished granite floor. The lobby was stuffy and the heat inside his Frankenstein mask was almost unbearable, making his long hair stick to his face and neck.
The shotgun in his clutches felt right and Baz tightened his grip on the magazine forestock, hugging the butt tightly under his ribs. The time for talk was over. Not that he spoke much, but he had to listen, and he’d heard enough. He was tired of the monotony, tired of the pain and the darkness, tired of the dreariness of life. Setting the world alight was his forte. He craved the scorching light, relished the heat from the dancing flames, and the blissful sound of calamity, so he squeezed the trigger. A ringing monotone in his eardrums followed the deafening blast. A beautiful pitch, swallowing all sound until less than one breath later a second blast echoed against the stone walls, cleansing all resonance for a second time. Purification for the building and for his soul. Blood flowed in waves, spreading across the shiny tiled floor. Scarlet initially and then dark plum as it pooled against the metal skirting of the cashier’s wooden desk. Perhaps, there was a slight fall in the floor, which helped the slick to gather. The monster’s heart beat slowed as his eyes drank the bloody sight. The climax passed, and he tilted his head in admiration of his handiwork. Smoke from his gun barrel rose to blur his view, so he lowered the shotgun slightly. His nostrils filled with the stench of excrement and burning iron, a concoction familiar to a killer, a perfume appropriate for a murdering brute. He took a deep breath through his nose and the scar under his eye twitched, before the screams and cries of his masked comrade lying on the floor invaded his pleasure, propelling him once more into the darkness.
Completing work on the first book of a crime trilogy - Rebels & Chancers. The series focuses on the Cork gangster, Chaz O’ Connor, galvanised by power and greed, and his nemesis, an impulsive Detective Russell. The story evolves to include Japanese Yakuza and the highest echelon of political power in Ireland.
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