William King

Yes, a good, well written story, about a sensitive issue, handled with care and conveying an important message. Child Abuse, the short story...

Same here, those regional accents could almost be a foreign language and if you listen to Glaswegians talking, it is. Funny thing accents, especially if like me you were born and bred an Englishman and can barely understand your fellow countrymen. I leave out the Scots, it's another country!

I second that. Not great perhaps, but it is certainly a very good story, with a well thought out plot. Which is a really nice change from all those stories that simply let events unfold. It's entertaining to read a thriller, with its twists and turns. I don't think it is an easy thing to achieve, so all praise to the author for pulling it off.

I appreciate your point, but I'm not sure that it's hard to believe. There is a growing movement of nationalism around the world, from Russia, through Europe, so it's not too surprising to find this in America. Things start with nationalism and finish with a dictatorship which persecutes minorities. We've seen it before, we are seeing it now in Russia, where Putin wants a fifth term. The one thing America has going for it, is that it's a big country dedicated to freedom, I could never see the USA as a dictatorship!

Yes, a very different story. I should have dedicated it to David F, but of course, he'll never get to read it! It's another tiny cameo from life. Terrible, sometimes things just go the hell wrong. I still think about him, he was twenty something.

It happened today when I posted. Lag then error message. So it's not fixed. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you pay for this forum? If you pay they should fix it. Someone should raise a ticket to flag the problem. This being my second post today, I confirm that it only happens on the first post. This posted instantly.

It’s worse than running a red light. Sure, one time you might get hit, but... Doesn't mean it’s all over. Depends. This was different. One of those chambers wasn't empty. Russian fucking roulette. Keep playing. And it’s gonna happen. Inevitable. Some things you can talk about, even need to. But I don’t need to talk to anyone about this. I know what being in love is. Feeling sick. Thinking all the time about him. Wanting to be with him. Wanting... to be him. I changed the brand of cigarettes I smoked. Peter Stuyvesant. Because... Because that’s what he smoked. He was a great dancer. I never saw a guy in a suit dancing. I never saw anyone dancing like him. When he was living in the same house as Brendan, he said I could come over. That was a shock. I had no idea Brendan lived there. I hadn’t seen him since school. Shit, I never imagined Brendan moving out of home. People can surprise you. I thought about what might happen. This was the first time we were alone. If you step back and look at it, yes. He was weird. That wasn't his fault. Bipolar Steve said. What the fuck is that? Somebody who tells you he didn’t show because he stayed on the bus. Decided not to get off at the stop. Followed this guy, a stranger he didn't even know. Why? He thought it was normal. Nothing happened when we were in his room. In that same house where Brendan lived. He lay down on the bed, face down. He had his clothes on. Told me to lay on top of him. I did. What’s normal anyway? Who tells you to do that? He felt how hard I was. There was this one time I was taking a piss. He came up behind me, unzipped, took it out, and pissed through my legs. How fucking normal is that? Bipolar? Is that what it is? That night he said I could sleep over. I did. Of course I did. I was like a love sick puppy. I hung around him, all the time. All the time I could. Nothing happened. He kicked me. In his sleep. Really hard. Kicked out. I spent the night on the floor. We could talk. Normally, I mean. Although thinking about it, I’m not so sure. He never got to the end of the story. I knew he left home. Runaway, kicked out? I wasn't sure. He told me he turned tricks. Met some guy his age who showed him how to make money. In the station toilets. Was he gay? Don’t ask me. I don’t know. We lived together. I fucked that up. How? How do you live with someone like him? I couldn't live with half a story. Half a person. Bipolar? Is it like that? Half a person. I fucking loved him! But it was inevitable. Russian roulette. You shoot up with heroin. What are the chances? Overdosed. Heard it by his friend. My heart was frozen like a Siberian lake. You'd have to drill deep to get through. He had the final word. Russian fucking roulette.

What you didn't mention was that this is a story in progress. Never mind, it's a competently written thriller and that is a nice change from the usual teen romance. I'm kind of intrigued by the author, is Wayne G a male or another female MM Romance novelist, not that it matters a great deal? And yes, I know, I said it's a thriller, but the protagonists are in a rapidly developing relationship, so both things are going on, hand in hand. There's ample foreshadowing, but not enough to give the plot away, so this story keeps you guessing. Like all really good thrillers, you can see how things are building, and you keep trying to imagine how it's going to turn out. It keeps you hooked, because, of course, you just have to know how it will end. If you like mystery thrillers with romance thrown in, you should give this a read. It's in progress, being serialized I imagine, read it now or wait until it's complete, but read it, it's good!

I just saw this - great - movie over here on the state TV channel.

Chapter One is promising. I get the impression the author is youngish. He did a little research but not quite enough to be realistic regarding living off grid (an electric oven and frozen food with 1kw panels, he'd have to leave the food outside in the snow, lol). None of that really matters, because the essential is the building intrigue and cliffhanger chapter ending, keeps you wanting more. Only thing I don't find cool is his email address! I'll come back when I've finished it. Thanks for the recommendation.

This is the error message you may get, and should ignore.

It would seem I am not alone in experiencing the site lag when posting to the forum. Description: after writing something in a forum thread you hit the button SUBMIT TOPIC and nothing happens. Nothing happens, there is a time delay, I'm used to it now and always wait. Usually, after a delay the item posts. If you don't wait the item gets posted twice, or as many times as you hit that button. It is also possible, due to the delay, that you receive an error message, but the item gets posted. Again, if you hit that submit topic button a second time, it gets posted twice. I have no idea why there is a delay, but suspect it's to do with varying internet speeds. It is not something unique to this site, but is very noticeable here. The solution: DON'T press that button a second time. If you are concerned what you wrote might get lost in cyberspace, copy it before posting. Hit the button once, go away and come back to check, whilst you still have the copy in your clipboard (that is, haven't copied anything else). 99% of the time it will have posted.

I didn't know either, but you prompted me to investigate. Now whilst I am not one to be overly concerned about labelling things; I think this story and perhaps a lot of my writing, certainly short stories, fits this definition: Autoethnography is a form of qualitative research in which an author uses self-reflection and writing to explore their personal experience and connect this autobiographical story to wider cultural, political, and social meanings and understandings. Autoethnography is a self-reflective form of writing... One type of Autoethnography that fits is: evocative autoethnographers focus on narrative presentations that open up conversations and evoke emotional responses. And that was my intention, perhaps more simply described as "reflections on life."

Here is an interesting statistic: The USA comprises 4.4% of the world population and has 42% of all the firearms in circulation on the planet. Source: Challenges Magazine - challenges.fr

To do something to effectively counter the present situation you need first to look at a few simple statistics, then consider the measures needed. Statistic number one: the more guns people own the greater the number of mass shootings. This applies equally to different countries as well as to different US states. Those countries and states with less guns per head of population have less homicides - it's not rocket science. Statistic number two: countries were mass shootings have taken place (it isn't restricted to America) have taken immediate action to curb gun ownership, tighten controls significantly. The result in all those countries has been to reduce or eliminate mass shootings. This is in contrast to the action taken by the Trump administration which made owning guns easier. Here is the link to those statistics: https://qz.com/1212809/compare-us-mass-shootings-and-gun-control-to-germany-china-russia-switzerland-and-australia/ What to do in America: restrict gun ownership, introduce very strict gun control. The ONLY effective measures are those which address the issue at source (eliminate the guns), not those which propose counter measures (arm the teachers and blockade the schools). The majority of Americans realise they have a problem with the gun situation. Now they need to get rid of those guns. If other countries can pass laws to curb gun ownership, it is reasonable to expect that America can do the same. Of course, you may need to change the government first (something that would be welcomed around the world!).

I'm watching the news and Trump is saying - it took the police eight minutes to get to the school when the shooting started, if the teachers carried guns... Is he really saying that school teachers should carry guns so they can shoot the children? THAT'S INSANE! Maybe I got it wrong, but it came across like that?

Some great lines: "These last few years I feel like you've been holding your breath." "It's not because you're black, I like black people..." Wish they'd had films like that when I was a teenager ?

The story built interest slowly, a chance encounter. Bittersweet is a little strong, more a sense of loss, something planned that never happened and remained unfulfilled. Or was it the realisation of old age that was there like a shadow, only noticed when pointed out by the girl offering her seat. This was more subtle, you might not notice. Perhaps it was bittersweet after all?

More Boys on a Train. Terminus by William King “I fucked things up. I know.” It was hard to even look at Alec. So he didn’t. He avoided his gaze. There was a moment of silence. Not real quiet. The murmur of voices and the clickety-click of the train. Those noises were there. In the background. It was crowded. Packed. Like always. “I treated you badly, very badly.” It was almost as if they were in a bubble. Alone together. The rest of the world was a cocoon. Not like before. It crossed his mind that maybe Alec thought he didn’t remember. As if it was nothing to him. An inconsequential incident. He did remember. He remembered it like it was yesterday. Those words came out of his mouth and they were said. Their whole lives had changed that night. The train was just as crowded. Only it was the weekend. Different people. Made no difference. No difference at all. “I was totally insensitive.” He looked around. All he saw were coats and bags, the sides of bodies. Occasional glimpses of the people sitting opposite. The train stopped. The doors opened. More passengers squeezed on. Shuffling, pushing. Arms outstretched, griping the bar. “I've never forgotten saying it.” He still could not bring himself to look at Alec. He sensed the tension. Feelings re-emerged. Threatened to overwhelm him. Like before. He felt he was suffocating. But before it was different. “Those words came out of my mouth and twisted like a knife in the gut.” His eyes were wet now. It was different. This time. Now he didn’t give a damn who was looking. The train shuddered, squeaked. That metallic noise of metal against metal as it rolled around a curve. The crowd shifted and swayed. They stopped. “There's no excuse.” He felt a knot in his stomach. “I can't justify it.” He thought he would heave. He might be physically sick. There was no air. “Saying sorry now is pretty useless.” They jerked forward. The train moved slowly. Relief. Not really. It was the morning after. When he remembered it, he choked. At the time it happened he also choked, but for a different reason. He had thought about it. Many times. But only with himself. Inside his head. Alec was there. Next to him. They were older. “I can tell you that I was paranoid.” He breathed in. A deep breath. They picked up speed. It was as real now as it was back then. All those people were sneaking glances. Whispering. Joking, making fun. Snide comments. Accusations. Alec had asked the question. The ultimate question. They had made love that night. For the first time. The first time ever. Then there were all the people in the carriage. Going where? To work, out somewhere? Looking. Staring. They knew. Didn't they? The wheels screeched. They shuddered to a halt. If they had only arrived quicker, but it was always slow. Weekday or weekends. Overcrowded. Slow. “I was paranoid.” That was true. He thought everyone was looking. Talking. Accusing. “I thought they all knew our secret.” All those people on the train. Going to work, going out. They knew and were sniggering. Laughing. Whispering. “I projected my total insecurity onto everyone.” He had. He had moulded all those people into a reflection of himself. His inability to accept who he was. “I thought they might actually throw me off the train!” He felt different now. Now it was too late. Looking left, then right. Past Alec. Looking at the people. They had other things on their minds than him and Alec. “For being gay.” He said that like an apology. In a way it was. An apology to Alec. He also realised he never had quite gotten over it. Being gay. He could say it now. Maybe that was something. “I thought I had accepted it, but I had a long way to go. On that train I was barely keeping things together.” That was true. He had been close to breaking down completely. “That is no excuse. I told you, I cannot excuse the pain I caused you.” He hardly noticed as they moved forward slowly. Grinding along the tracks. Clanking over the points. “I told you I didn't love you.” When he repeated those words it was as if he held a knife in his hands. He was a murderer. He'd killed their love. Destroyed it. Before it had a chance. The doors were opening. The carriage was emptying. He hadn’t noticed that they’d arrived. Still, he stayed seated, waiting for the crowds to exit. He noticed two boys, young men. Saw them kiss. He looked over at the seat next to him. It was empty. The carriage was empty. Silent. Alec had gone. Of course he had. A faint voice disturbed him. “Mister! Mister! You all right?” He thought that he felt hands gently rocking him. The carriage doors were wide open. The platform empty. He saw Alec waiting. Waving to him from the platform. Forty years had not changed him at all. He looked just the same. Smiling. He didn’t hesitate one minute. He sprang up and made for the doors. He glanced back briefly. The two young men were crouched over an elderly person alone in the carriage. The yellow letters scrolled across the indicator – Terminus... Tears streamed down his face. He literally jumped through those doors onto the platform. Alec was there to greet him. END

I just finished reading them all. They were each different, each had something to offer, and were surprisingly inventive. I have my little preferences, but you would be hard pressed to say any one story was better than another. For me the best part of reading these themed stories was the inventiveness of the authors, plus the feel good factor!

Is this the future of the Internet? Any site with key words - presumably those words that describe sex, but equally could include "gay" or "homosexual," get blocked - CENSORED! JAKARTA (Reuters) - Indonesia has blocked more than 70,000 websites displaying “negative” content such as pornography or extremist ideology in the first month of using a new system to help purge the internet of harmful material, the communications minister told Reuters. The world’s most populous Muslim-majority country has stepped up efforts to control online content after a rise in hoax stories and hate speech, and amid controversial anti-pornography laws pushed by Islamic parties. The so-called “crawling system” developed by a unit of state-run Telekomunikasi Indonesia Tbk (Telkom) was launched in January, using 44 servers to search internet content and issue alerts when inappropriate material is found. “We just put some sort of key words there, most of them are pornographic,” said Minister of Communication and Information Rudiantara.

@Merkin I guess that I should answer your questions one at a time. Is this the actual procedure? Yes, but I imagine the code phrase "London Bridge is Down" will have been changed. Worried about the member of staff, Anthony, kicking things off. There is a lot left out of the story, which is the challenge of writing a story in less than 1000 words (this is my first time writing flash fiction). Although Anthony recently joined the team, you don't get his position without being vetted. So no worries on that count. Seems unfinished? No, it's complete. The story is about the announcement of the death of the British monarch, Queen Elizabeth II. It's just a moment in time. One of those moments everyone tends to remember, like other really big global events. Kiran, Adam, and John, barely introduced? True, they are simply returning from a late night out, the silent witnesses to the news announcement of the Queen's death. Am I planning to continue the story? No, as I said, it's complete. Simply the moment we witness an important event. A bit spooked. Let me add a bit more information (set your mind at rest). The flash fiction was inspired by an article written by Sam Knight for The Guardian newspaper (a reputable major UK journal). “London Bridge is Down” is (or was) the code phrase used to inform the government that the Queen is dead. The blue obit lights are a system used to tell commercial radio stations in the UK that a national catastrophe has occurred. When they flash, whoever is in the studio presenting the programme, is instructed to end their programme and switch over to the news channel. The state owned BBC television stations have standing instructions to interrupt all programmes and go off air. Screens will go blank and then some tranquil images will be displayed on a loop, swans on a river, or something similar. BBC radio services, have a separate system known as RATS, dating from the cold war period. This is an emergency channel, which would be used to inform them that there has been a national disaster. Services would combine to a single broadcast with an announcement being repeated every fifteen minutes. The announcement given at the end, "This is the BBC from London..." dates back to the second world war and was specifically chosen. The intention being to inspire a national coming together during a time of crisis or in this instance a dramatic event and the end of an era. There is a lot more information in the original article, I have simply taken a couple of bits to write the story. We often don't think about these sort of events, indeed, often events of a global importance are unpredictable. In the case of Queen Elizabeth II, she is ninety one this year, and, well we will all die some time, so we should not be surprised that processes have been put in place by the powers that be. I hope this answers your questions and goes some way to explaining the background to how the story came to be written. I have to admit I knew nothing about these procedures until I read Sam Knight's piece.

London Bridge is Down. By William King. Buckingham Palace, London – 03:15 Sir Christopher paced back and forth in front of the solid mahogany desk that occupied a prominent place in his rather splendid office. Then he stopped and walked over to stare out through the tall window, framed by heavy embroidered drapes. It was raining, ‘when wasn't it.’ Looked like it was turning to sleet. There was a knock at the door. He turned back to look. Anthony, the young man who had recently joined his staff, walked in. The expression on Anthony's face told Sir Christopher everything. “Get the Prime Minister on the phone,” he instructed, before he even spoke a word. Anthony picked up the phone on Sir Christopher’s desk. Twenty seconds later he passed the phone to Sir Christopher. 10 Downing Street, London – 03:15 After three years in office, the Prime Minister was accustomed to short nights and little sleep. Even being a light sleeper, she was asleep when James, her personal aide, entered the bedroom. A gentle touch on her shoulder was sufficient to wake her. Shaking her head, emerging rapidly from sleep, she looked up. “Just a minute.” She needed a few seconds to feel fully aware. James placed the China cup and saucer carefully on the bedside table. He noticed the small bottle of pills. “Thank you James.” She knew that this was a national crisis. She would only be woken in the middle of the night if something serious had happened. “I have the Queen’s private secretary for you mam.” She took the phone, at the same time sitting up in bed. “Christopher.” “Prime Minister.” There was a slight pause. “London Bridge is down!” “Thank you, Christopher.” Immediately she put down the receiver, she was out of bed. Taking a sip of coffee, she moved barefoot across the thick carpet to get dressed. It’s a cliché that British people only drink tea! Capital FM, Leicester Square, London – 03:53 Bernie was well used to the night shift, 2AM to 5AM. He'd been doing it for the best part of a year now. It was, he hoped, the break he needed. A stepping stone to bigger and better things. Nothing was a mystery anymore, he knew how it all worked. It was still a shock when the blue obit lights started flashing. Alec was mouthing something through the glass window. He took his headphones off. There was exactly two minutes left on the current track. He stood up from the console and walked across to open the studio door. “What’s going on? Is this for real?” Bernie nodded back towards the flashing blue lights. “Mood Two list!” Bernie went to sit back down. The track had thirty seconds left. He picked up the headphones, flicked the microphone switch. “This is Capital FM on 95.8,” he announced, not wanting to play any inappropriate jingle. “We are going straight over to our news channel.” He raised his head to look through the window. Alec was giving the thumbs up. Bernie faded the studio sound and hit the off-air switch. The engineers did the rest. All Bernie knew was tonight his slot had been cut short by some kind of national catastrophe. Flat 3, Carlton Road, London N11 – 03:56 “You’ve got the key!” John wasn't too sure that Adam did have the keys, he just hoped so. Feeling in both his pockets; he didn’t have them. “Come on guys, it’s freezing.” “Hold on a minute.” Adam looked from Kiran to John, then back to Kiran. He smiled, putting his arm around Kiran's shoulders and extracting the keys from his coat pocket. Once inside, up the stairs, and through the front door, it was nice and warm. “Coffee anyone?” John called out as he crossed the lounge towards the kitchen. Kiran and Adam flopped down together on the sofa. For some reason they were both giggling. “Please!” Adam exclaimed loudly. That was both a yes to the coffee, and an attempt to get Kiran to keep his hands off him. Although, actually he was quite enjoying being fondled. “Real or decaf?” John looked back into the lounge. “Decaf, I need some sleep tonight.” Kiran's hand was now resting on Adam's thigh. “You think so?” He whispered sexily, his tongue licking Adam’s earlobe. To cool things down, Adam picked up the TV remote and switched on the large screen television. “There's nothing on!” John was carrying the coffees on a tray which he put down in front of them. Adam sat back and flicked over to the radio. Kiran picked up his coffee, popped a sweetener in. “This is the BBC from London. It is with the greatest sorrow that we make the following announcement. In the early hours of this morning, Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, died peacefully in her sleep.” “Oh my god!” Kiran exclaimed.

yeah... terrific. That's France for ya!

If - example - you copy a previous post from this thread which has formatted text, say hyperlinks. The X will preserve the format and keep those hyperlinks, posting as plain text, will get rid of them. Here below is, 1. Plain text option, 2. X Option. 1. OK, so here is a possible solution: Someone could configure away all of the horrible buttons ...and add a whole bunch of new, cooler buttons! Just a bit of visual artistry plus a SMOP, and it's done! :) 2. OK, so here is a possible solution: Someone could configure away all of the horrible buttons ...and add a whole bunch of new, cooler buttons! Just a bit of visual artistry plus a SMOP, and it's done! :) The copy paste in the default template should work like this for everyone.