Gregor Samson as Artist Extraordinaire
Imagine being mistaken for someone famous, inhabiting their appearance and yet knowing you are not them. What kind of day could you have and how satisfying would it feel, to experience the life of an international celebrity? Might it be rather exciting, just for one day? Gregor Samson is about to find out, in this, his second easy read, short story adventure.
Interrupted by an early morning telephone call, we find our confused protagonist advised to expect an imminent delivery and collection. What follows is a journey during which Gregor meets warm-hearted individuals, discovers the language of dance, acts as guide to royalty and finally, meets face-to-face with his nemesis.
After reading, you may well ask yourself this, “Given control of the life belonging to someone famous, what exactly might I do?”
Buy the ebook here
Available as an ebook on Amazon.
Heaven and Hell, and In-Between
Brinkinfield’s first foray into the world of Amazon, a short story of 5,357 words split into three sections and an epilogue. This work heralds the very first introduction of Gregor Samson, a character seen in development here and set to star in a series of future, gently humorous short stories.
Within this instalment we observe Gregor as an ordinary fellow, liking nothing better than eating his dinner in front of the television with a schedule of viewing mapped out in advance. On this particular evening, he had not expected death to come upon him. In fact, he’d mistaken it for a case of bad indigestion.
As we know, death is not the end, only the beginning of a new journey. And yet, would you have ever expected the next life to be complicated and bureaucratic – that there would be a place for clipboards, lists and databases? Surely there would be no use for such things?
Well, there might be, they’re dealing with a lot of numbers.
Within these words, we follow Gregor on his other-worldly travels and share in the experience of shame, embarrassment, the fantasies and challenges he is faced with along the way.
After reading, you may ask yourself, “How would I fare, come my own day of judgement?”
Chloe and Emily have been friends for nearly three years, they flat share, both work for the university, and share the journey into work – in Emily’s car. Chloe isn’t a morning person, but Emily has gotten used to that.
“… so, what I am saying is this, that by observing ants closely, you’ll see they don’t do anything stupid,” Chloe said, “they always walk in orderly lines, carrying leaves, twigs and so forth, back to the nest.”
“Well not always, they sometimes fall off branches,” Emily interjected, looking left and right for an opening in the queue of traffic, “that doesn’t seem too clever.”
Continue reading “rush hour conversation”
Stood in his narrow kitchen, staring vacantly at the blister pack held between his fingers and thumb, the new pills – Johnson concluded, simply weren’t working. Like the ones he’d been placed on before, and the one’s before the one’s before. The same as always, his deep depression, chronic introversion and social anxiety paralysed him. This, despite the elapse of two years since his first prescribed treatment. Continue reading “the joy of song (short story 3,443 words)”
Warning: this short story contains some swear words, implied nudity and chauvinistic ‘pigotry’, all deemed as essential to the plot.
“Finally, what took you so long? It’s a bit late to still be lazing around in bed. Here, take the bloody parcel, I’ve got a shed-load to get through this morning and I’m falling behind just by talking to you. You’ve absolutely no idea.” Continue reading “what did you just say? (short story 1,865 words)”
So I knew Su, we were kinda friends. We’d met as members of a group of people who got together in a cafe twice a month. We were writers, we weren’t professional, fully fledged writers, but Su and I were two people writing stories and poems who sometimes thought to compare ourselves to writers. With a view to help bolster this belief, we attended a collective of like-minded folk. Continue reading “Su, ‘nam, me.”
A short burst of escaping pressurised air caused his closed eyelids to lighten, lift, fall shut and re-open. Three blurry impressions of the outside came inside: a white ceiling, a monitor emitting a pulsing tone and an hourglass figure dressed in light blue standing nearby. A voice reverberated inside his ears, words initially overlapping each other, gradually becoming clear. He felt the touch of soft fingertips stroke the top of his hand; his head hurt like a hangover.
Continue reading “space time communion”