Just an extract of something I’m working on.  I’m currently playing around with setting and using a non linear narrative. As always any feedback is great. This is only the beginning but the story would carry on in the same fashion as this.

Greg J Allman.

The smell of stale food and beer nauseated George when he stepped through the door. His arrival had managed to turn a few heads. He had the look of a detective, jaded yet arrogant, he stood in his suit with a hand in his pocket .Even though he was far from being Kojak or Columbo he liked the idea of carrying that demeanour.  His foot stuck to the floor, a result of standing in the same spot for too long, he hopped to the side to keep his balance, deciding not to check if there is any damage on his shoe he made his way to the bar. He gave the barman a nod, unbuttoned his blazer and parked himself on a stool not before checking himself in the mirror behind the bar. This used to be a place of solace for him at a rough time, he reflected on this period as walking out of one hell straight in to another. The chubby mess sitting beside him was nursing an empty glass of what appeared to be whiskey; he was breathing heavily making unsavoury pig like noises.

“Would you like another drink Paul?” George asked watching himself in the mirror behind the bar.

“Why else would I be here?”

George signalled two more to the barman who nodded in response. “How you been keeping mate?” George asked Paul.

“Mate” Paul sniggered. “We are not mates.”

The bartender brought over two whiskey doubles; George paid with a note and told the bartender to keep the change.

“You all flash now.” Paul shook his head disapprovingly. Paul picked up his drink and took a long gulp and slammed the glass down on the bar.

“Look I need a favour.”

“Fuck you.” George sat quietly staring at Paul who was looking away.

“I need your help.”

“That’s a one way street for you ain’t it.”

“I know I”

“No you fucking don’t know, I was a mate to you when you were crying your eyes out about how tough life in a big fucking house is. But when I lost everything where were you?”

Paul got up to walk off but George held his arm to make him stay. George’s face was desperate and Paul could sense that it was something serious, plus his equilibrium was off from all the whiskey. Paul sat back down and kept his eyes fixated on George’s untouched glass. George turned his head and realised what he was staring at. He slid the glass over to Paul who wasted no time in disposing of its contents.

“Two more over here mate.” Paul shouted to the barman.

“I don’t want a drink Paul.”

“I know, they’re for me.” Paul knew George owed him and would owe him even more after this conversation, and this time he intended to make sure George paid off his debt.

“Ok fine, anyway I need.”

“How much?” Paul asked.

“I don’t need money.” George’s hands rose in disbelief.

“I can see that.” Paul said pinching George’s blazer. The barman put down two more double whiskeys which Paul grabbed immediately; George paid again and gave the bartender a nod.

“You’re so busy telling me what you need, you haven’t thought about what I need, so how much?” Paul smiled.



“Ten” George’s voice was firm.



“Fine” Paul broke.

“Great.” George sat waiting for Paul to speak again, instead he gestured his hand for George to continue telling him what he needed.

“Right so tomorrow, I need you to come to the fun fair.”

George held Harriet’s hand as they strolled along the grass taking in the fairground’s attractions. This type of thing had never been George’s cup of tea but today he really didn’t have a choice in the matter. Harriet beamed at the rollercoaster swerving and swooping, her excitement was comparable to a child on Christmas morning. She tugged at George’s arm each time she saw something that amazed her, if she carried on at this rate his arm will come right out of its socket. Whilst Harriet’s enthusiasm for the fun fair was visible for all to see, George kept his emotions in check, keeping his eyes covered with his Ray Ban’s. George frowned at the amount of teenagers and young adults who were out; the sunshine always brought people out in their droves. He admired the style of the youth these days as it was more refined and mature unlike a few years ago when everyone wore baggy jeans around their knees. However seventeen year olds wearing cords still made him feel old. Although Harriet was five years younger and not getting any younger herself she was aging slow and gracefully whereas George had recently joined the elite club of men who rely on hair dye to keep them looking young. Old age was definitely catching up with George but he had no intention of being trapped in its net just yet.

“Isn’t this amazing George?”

“It sure is” he flatly responded.

“Oh cheer up grouchy” Harriet smiled squeezing his arm. “You’re at the fun fair the funnest place ever!”

“I guess, plus I do love the candy floss.”

“Yuck, I hate that stuff, but it’s a start.” She threw him a smile to get him in the mood and he reciprocated by sticking out his tongue and laughing.

“Oh this’ll get you in the mood” she pointed towards a Strongman Striker which was surrounded by puny teenagers who were struggling to the ring the bell. “Let’s go, you can show these kids what a real man is, plus I really want a bear!”

“Let’s do the rollercoaster first.”

“Oh is someone nervous?” Harriet teased.

“No, it’s just that you won’t be able to get the bear on there.”

“We’ll worry about that later.”

“Yeah but”

“Besides you need to build up to the big attractions, duhh.”

Harriet headed on towards the Strongman Striker, George stood with his hands in his pockets. He removed a note from his pocket and glared down at it. The colour immediately left his face.



The words were constructed using magazine cut outs. He had put the money in a yellow envelope and was hoping to end this debacle today. He folded it back up and put it back in his pocket and walked towards Harriet.