• www.inkitt.com

Karen Browne

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I write because I cannot live without it. I have a BA(Hons) in English and Classics and an MA in Culture and Colonialism.
I enjoy exploring the darker side of life in short stories and novels. For me that can range from secrets and lies to shame and stigma to brutality and crime and all the grey areas in between. The art of storytelling is a beautiful thing and I love crafting my words into something that will leave a reader awash with emotions.
My biggest dream is to see my novel published.

Current project

Book Title: Black Ribbons

Clementine lives an idyllic life safe within the sanctuary her home has become. When a car accident leaves her husband in a coma, secrets buried in the past and closely guarded in the present begin to emerge. As the fabric of her life begins to unravel, Clementine finds herself trapped in a web of secrets, lies and criminality. While she searches for the truth that will release her, she carefully guards a secret of her own,

Writing sample

According to maps, we’re only a few kilometres from Salthill. That would be an ideal place to rest and for Jasper to have a little walk. I pull in to the first spot along the prom that has plenty of room to accommodate my less than perfect parking skills. It’s a beautiful early evening and plenty of people are out walking and swimming. As I’m locking the car, I see a group of young men jumping from the diving board one by one and there’s a queue of all ages waiting to join them. I’m surprised at the amount of people swimming in the sea, there are markers that seem to extend as far as the eye can see. I’ve never been brave enough to venture into the cold, boundless sea. Looking at the joy on the faces of the swimmers here, the sea must be part of the lifeblood of Galway.
There’s an ice-cream van and I wait in line for something I haven’t had since I was a child, a 99. Myself and Jasper sit on one of the concrete steps across from the diving tower. Its half-circle shape reminds me of an amphitheatre. Jasper happily licks ice-cream from my finger as I listen to the soothing sound of the waves and enjoy the gentle breeze. As Jasper crunches the last bit of the cone it occurs to me that this is the sort of place where you could lose all track of time, something I can’t really afford to do.
We move down the prom just a little to a beach that’s quiet for no obvious reason. Jasper doesn’t see a beach too often and I unclip his leash to let him make the most of it. The look on his face is one of sheer joy as he races around on the sand as if he hasn’t been exercised for years. He runs to the edge of the tide, lets the water tickle his front paws and runs back to me with a look of wild excitement. He runs back again and barks at the waves, almost daring them to come and get him. He doesn’t go in the water which is a relief as I’ve no way to get him dry and would rather not have the car upholstery reeking of eau de wet dog. It gladdens my heart to watch him playing so happily until it’s time for us to go. I want to be much closer to home before Venus appears in the sky.
When we get back to the car, my constant companion takes a long drink and devours all the carrot sticks I have left. He’s exhausted himself and should sleep soundly for the rest of the journey, ready to greet his home with the type of exuberance that’s unique to dogs. I think I’ll be as glad as he is to return to a familiar bed and all either of us has ever known.
Despite a somewhat circuitous route, I’ve made it to the motorway at last and signs pointing me to Dublin have appeared. The distance seems vast, but if I can make it to a once mysterious cottage in Connemara, I can make it home again. The trouble with motorways is that everything looks strangely similar except for the odd art piece that sticks out like a sore thumb. I’ve gone through the first toll and from signage I know that I’m nearing Athlone. I must make a note about paying all the tolls and have someone sort it out tomorrow, I don’t want fines to deal with.

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