Joseph Roy Wright
Bio
Hello there!
My name is Joseph Roy Wright, the British author of over 30 Independent novels!
I like to write about movies, pop culture, fiction and horror! I review all the latest films (and classics), I also like to write short stories.
Stories (216)
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The Last Bus
For several nights now, Benjamin Riley has been getting the last bus home after work. He finishes his shift at the Eastern warehouse district just outside London, catching the last ride home at 11:32pm. Most buses run much later than that, but not that far out from the main city. It is a long and tiring journey, one that drives across the whole city before finally, after almost 2 hours of travelling it reaches a bus stop a further 20 minutes walk away from his home in some god awful council estate (there aren't any buses that stop closer to his apartment). Benjamin is 32 years old and he's been a warehouse operator since he was 20 and what a shitty career path he had chosen, this must've been the 15th (possibly 16th) warehouse job he had since then and they were always just as bad as the last. Early days are usually the best, because that's when the bosses go easy on you. Even the regular staff give the new guy space, you're lucky if that lasts even a month in these types of places. People soon show their colours and they ain't bright, beautiful blues, reds or greens, but shit stained brown, piss yellow and black as coal. Everyone who works in ware housing is positively depressed, and it simply sucks the life out of you! The only good thing about Benjamin's current workplace was the hour long lunch break (an absolute god send!) and finally getting home after a 12 hour, long, boring and dreadful shift. Now he felt like a massive creep about this next part, but there was a young, beautiful woman who had been getting the same bus home recently from Camden Square, she was an absolute bombshell! Long, blonde hair, an angelic face and stunning features, such as a super model's body and the designer clothes she wore only added to the lady's beauty. The reason Benjamin felt like a creep, was because he simply couldn't keep his eyes off her. No matter how hard he buried his face into a book or his mobile phone, he just couldn't help but glance at her from time to time. He suspected she was aware of him, despite never making a fuss about it. She must've been in her early twenties, while Benjamin was a balding thirty plus guy, who would never stand a chance with her anyway. Yet sometimes her gorgeous smile could brighten his day, even though he never actually spoke to her and tried to keep himself from even talking to her, he admired her and hated himself for even looking in her direction. The last thing he wanted, was to scare this crush of his. Benjamin had never been good with women, he was always better off ignoring them because they always found him creepy. The man simply had no game, no luck whatsoever when it came to the opposite sex. He lived alone and hungered for company, despite this he was a secret gentleman giving the woman her space, not once advancing on her as the weeks and months went by. Then one Friday night, that all changed. There was a big gang of men, all drunk wearing neon glow sticks and necklaces, obviously coming home from a mad night out clubbing in Camden. The Mysterious woman that Benjamin fancied, always sat at the front of the bus, while he always sat at the back, half asleep after his long shift. This night however, as the young hooligans boarded the bus, screaming, shouting and laughing drunkenly, being loud and obnoxious, Benjamin was wide awake. The blonde up front looked visibly uncomfortable as the men entered, looking at her up and down because she was (at least in that moment) unfortunately incredibly attractive.
By Joseph Roy Wright11 months ago in Criminal
London Undercover
Long before Detective Wayne Bateman became a private eye, he was an undercover police man within the city of London. He infiltrated some of the biggest gangs to haunt the land, putting an end to their mischief with plenty of evidence to lock the bad guys up for good! There is one truly thrilling tale to tell however, one that gave him the ambition to leave this role behind and go out in his own. In this story; Wayne saw the darkest recesses of the criminal underground, the scum and villainy that cursed (and unfortunately still does) London was incredibly evil, degenerate, cruel and ultimately disgusting to behold. It polluted his mind with newfound horror, disturbing him with the harsh reality that people could actually be this despicable beyond his wildest nightmares. It was the gang known as The Vipers that Wayne was assigned to investigate. The gangsters wore dark green tracksuits with white stripes, this was their identity so that everyone involved knew they were part of the same crime family. There were hundreds of these men and women, all of whom were rough as a dog's ass and were most definitely involved in the drug trade that was spreading through the city like a deadly virus. This was in 2014, when dubstep music was all the rage and nightclubs were sharing the likes of Speed, Molly and Cocaine under the counter. However, as you are about to discover, there was something far more sinister going on behind the curtains. To join the gang was simple, if you could successfully commit a mugging and return the money to the gang leader, this seemed to prove you were loyal to the The Vipers and certainly weren't a cop. Before that, Wayne had to intricate into the gang's society first, learning how to speak in a much rougher accent than his own, that being Cockney and behaving like the locals who dwelled within the council estate near Camden. He first met a young lad who was a part of the gang known as Carl, a mouthy teenager who got into a fight within one of the pubs. It was clear who Carl was due to his gang colours, tracksuit and the things he was saying about getting the whole gang down here to defend him against this absolute beast of a man who was almost forty. Carl didn't stand a chance against this juggernaut, so Wayne stepped in and knocked out the beast within an instant. Everyone in the pub gasped, as the giant fell onto the hardwood floor.
By Joseph Roy Wright12 months ago in Criminal
The Car Thief
Paul Smith was a master at car jacking,he could break into any vehicle discreetly without smashing the windows or setting off the car alarms. He had a special tool, one that looked similar to that of a long, metal wire that crept under the side windows and unlocked the vehicle doors. Then he would climb inside into the driver's seat, quietly close the door and hot wire the vehicle without detection. Then ignite it into drive, fleeing slowly away from the scene as not to make too much noise or garner attention. Paul could do this in his sleep and often worked illegally as a professional thief, one that could successfully steal even the most highly secured cars in the market. He got paid thousands of Great British pounds doing just that. Working for hundreds of shady criminals who wanted the top cars, but couldn't afford them, so hiring Paul was only slightly cheaper, yet worthwhile. The young man had built a reputation as well as an incredible wealth. Paul lived in a mansion within the poshest area of Chelsea, he had the life of a rockstar or popstar, a trophy wife and several super sports cars of his very own. He got to a point where working was pointless, yet he still stole cars for big paydays anyway. Call it greed, but many believed he kept doing it because of the thrill! There was just something so incredibly satisfying and daring about stealing such high end machinery. He couldn't resist, not even if he had all the money in the world, he couldn't stop himself. Not even video games where you rob banks and vehicles could satisfy his itch. Pressing a button to instantly break into any vehicle wasn't a challenge, having virtual police chase him in a video game wasn't thrilling enough for him anyway and the huge pay he got after each job in real life, it fueled his ego more than anything on earth. He'd fuck his wife hard after a good job, something she never complained about despite her protests for him to stop risking their life together. She'd forget about all the danger he put himself (and by extension her) in, when he inserted his dominance inside of her. She'd scream and moan as he'd completely overwhelm her in the bedroom, his cock like ecstasy inside and out. Then the orgasms would end, she'd fall asleep and have nightmares about Paul getting caught by the police, he was a handsome young man too, she worried he'd get abused in prison. That he'd drop the soap, even though that was more likely to happen in an American jail, she'd still dream about him in such terrible circumstances. Every morning she'd beg him to stop, but he'd just kiss her and tease.
By Joseph Roy Wright12 months ago in Criminal
In Defence Of Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League
Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League has a few problems, but is ultimately a fun enough experience to play through at least once. Although there is a severe lack of decent side content in-between main missions. So much of this game requires you to attack the same enemy bases over and over to level up, this usually pits us against a battle tank roaming Metropolis, a giant turret that needs destroying or a gang of aliens that you can take out. There are also riddler challenges (the most fun) where you collect green trophies, solve riddles by pointing at the building Riddler is hinting at, and my favourite are the riddler races where you fly through hoops (like Superman 64 except actually fun!) to unlock new outfits for your squad, playing virtual dress up is always fun and makes for a cool distraction. The side missions mostly consist of surviving waves of enemies while defending either a tower or moving vehicle. Unfortunately that's all there really is to do outside of the main story missions. It may sound like a lot after reading all that, but after a few hours you find yourself repeating a lot of the same tasks over and over again. I can say the gameplay is a lot of fun to experience though, especially giving the fact there are four different characters to play and level up (8 altogether if you count season 2+ characters). This makes the gameplay just that little bit more refreshing as they all play different from each other. Captain Boomerang has access to the speed force; allowing him to teleport with his boomerang and run super speed like the Flash himself, his melee is ranged as he uses his boomerangs to hit enemies from afar. King Shark basically has super strength and plays like the Hulk; that being ground slams, powerful close range melee and super jumping across the city. Harley Quinn plays like Spiderman! She uses Batman's grappling hook to swing around the city and has a baseball bat that can send enemies flying. My favourite by far, is Deadshot; not only does he have the best shooting accuracy, but can also fly (like superman!) using a jet pack that can rocket you across Metropolis, his melee is the most ranged too, as he uses his wrist guns to fight enemies. Graphically the game is worthy of being Next Gen too, you can see every character's individual hair strands, eye lashes, teeth, even their eyes dilate and facial muscles express intricate emotions. It is all very well done and gorgeous to look at, especially when it is raining, the city really glows at night in a thunderstorm with rain and puddles reflecting Metropolis. Story wise the game is very hit and miss (with the most abrupt and unsatisfying ending I've seen for a long time!). The writers forced some unnecessary politics into the story, which can be completely immersion breaking at times. I won't go too much into this as it is a icky topic, personally it is something that always makes me feel a little uncomfortable discussing, but what I will say is that it doesn't really belong in a super hero (or more accurately super villain) game like this and it ultimately dulls the edge that make the Suicide Squad comics so appealing and mature. If you want a good story in this series, I recommend picking up a few of the classic comics, because this game, plays things a little too safe. The highlight of the game is facing the Justice League themselves though and this game does exactly what it says on the tin; Kill The Justice League! The boss battles with Flash, Green Lantern, Batman, Superman and finally Brainiac (as he has controlled the JL into being evil, which is why we're here to stop them) are all fun and interesting fights, that I honestly loved playing through. They are actually challenging (especially Batman's scarecrow themed horror boss fight, that felt scary and most difficult too, as Nightmare Batman becomes a giant bat monster!). This ultimately made the game for me, as a big fan of DC Comics fighting these super hero legends was a weird dream I didn't know I had until I got to play this game. Metropolis is really cool if you're obsessed with the comics too, seeing all the lore accurate buildings, locations and scenes in a 4k video game that almost looks like real life, it is simply incredible. However, the city does feel a little too small and considering this is a game where we can run super speed, teleport, fly and super jump around the map, this small size is very disappointing, especially for a next gen game!
By Joseph Roy Wright12 months ago in Gamers
The Lottery Robbery
Henry Parker worked at convenience store in Piccadilly Circus, within the busiest district of London. Everyday he'd serve horrible bastards, horrible cunts and so on and so on. It was agony, the amount of twats who came wondering in and out of the place was staggering, not one of them was nice, they were all horrid for a pallette of different reasons. Some were teenage yobs, coming in trying to buy cigarettes and alcohol with fake IDs, it was obvious that they were underage. These kids would get violent when Henry wouldn't serve them, sometimes trashing the store, hitting him or verbally abusing poor working class Henry. The upper class pricks weren't much better, if you're an American reading this, forget about hot tea and biscuits,the posh are massive bellends. They would come in dressed to the nines, giving Henry the snobbiest looks imaginable, expecting him to behave like a butler or personal servant. They were the type of swines to complain about literally anything or everything. He couldn't stand them! Occasionally, there were cute tourists from around the world popping in, they were always a pleasure to speak to. They loved London, were happy to be visiting, which was a lot more fun than actually living in the city. Sure, London has it's attractions like Buckingham Palace and Big Ben, etc. There is a huge selection of shops, which makes for an ideal day out for retail therapy. The nightlife is also booming, with more nightclubs than you can imagine and nothing beats a nice, cold pint after a hard day's work in a cosy traditional pub (something Henry did a lot during the weekends). However, actually living in London revealed it's darker secrets and depressing reality. The city was expensive, unbelievably expensive! So bloody expensive, that a shitty little flat in a London sewer, was more expensive than a country bungalow in the north of England. Life was a struggle for Henry, he had lost count how many times he smashed his phone rushing to work on the subway, only for the massive crowds to knock him over, causing him to drop his phone and get the screen repaired for £100+ which was absolutely ridiculous! He felt trapped in this gross, dark and gloomy rat race of rushing to work and then slaving away for sometimes twelve hours a day, for minimum wage which only added to his hopelessness. However, there was something the shop he worked at sold, a promise of fortune, a gamble that could make you millions. Lottery tickets and scratch cards! Henry was always told these things were scams, his father said so, that they were rigged to keep you spending in the vain hope of making it rich. "Get a job!" His dad would say, "go to college, then university. Get a degree in something and make a living that way!"
By Joseph Roy Wright12 months ago in Criminal
Black Car Abductor
In London there has been a recent urban legend among the city folk, that of a mystery black four door car that drives around Electric Avenue past midnight. Now the image of a lone black car driving through the night isn't anything to get excited about on its own, no of course not, such a sight is common place in a big city such as this. It's what the black car does after spotting a lone walker, just minding his or her own business, sometimes walking a dog or not. The black car will pull over onto the path in front of the person, only for a mystery man in a black ski mask to grab and force them into the boot of said car. Then he will drive off, as for the abductee, they are never to be seen again! Nobody knows who this strange abductor is, why he does this is anyone's guess. Some say he is a sex trafficker, others say he is an organ harvester, he could be a serial killer or all of the above, maybe something else entirely we'll never truly know. The Black Car Abductor doesn't discriminate either by the way, he has kidnapped the elderly as well as the youth. People of every age go missing every year and you can bet good money, that some of those missing children or adults were likely abducted by this terrifying, mysterious stranger. Some of his victims (or so it is believed) have turned up dead. An elderly man was walking his bulldog down Electric Avenue one night, struggling to control the dog on the lead, while dragging himself forwards with his walking stick. The man must have been at least seventy, maybe eighty. Someone witnessed his kidnapping, the black car made a loud screech, skidding onto the path in front of the confused and horrified senior citizen. Miss Hamilton saw the whole thing from her bedroom window, opening her curtain to investigate the sounds of barking and car tyres halting. She saw the old man get punched square in the face by the masked abductor, who had jumped out of his car like some frightening ninja. The poor dog whined and barked frantically as his master dropped the lead in his panic, screaming; "I'm sorry, I'll pay you, I just need a week! One week!" The old man cried, as he was shoved into the black car's boot. It was a scene straight out of some horrible crime film, where the mafia terrorise the innocent. The dog bit the masked maniac and to Miss Hamilton's horror, the abductor kicked the dog across the pavement. The poor thing stood up, wept, then fled howling in terror and agony. The horrible masked man shut the boot, silencing the pensioner's screams. He climbed inside his car and drove off into the night. Miss Hamilton called the police immediately, but the car was already long gone and just like with every report that tried to stop the Black Car Abductor, the case was ultimately left unsolved. Not that law enforcement hasn't tried to stop this masked lunatic. They always patrol the area whenever an abduction takes place around the area, only there wouldn't be another kidnapping until six or seven months later and unfortunately most kidnappings go unnoticed. CCTV has spotted the abductor multiple times and although the car is always black, it is often a different make and model with a completely different license plate, that is always fake so they cannot possibly track it down as the car often drives down blind spots where no camera watches, making it near impossible to track the villain down. Some believe the whole thing is a government conspiracy, that police purposely turn a blind eye because the secret behind this strange occurrence could even be orchestrated by the social elite. Another thing to note, is that the masked man seems to change too, his body language, size and height has often changed throughout the many years of this happening since 2018. The first reports described the masked man as being short but stocky like some world champion body builder. Then in 2020 he was described as a she, with a more, slender feminine figure and long hair sticking out the back of her ski mask, using a pistol to intimidate their victim into getting in the trunk of the black car, instead of physical force. Then in 2022, someone else said the masked abductor was an athlete male that was incredibly tall yet broad. This seems to confirm that it isn't just one man, but multiple men or women, who commit these strange abductions. This coupled with Miss Hamilton's witness statement, claiming that the abducted victim she saw (who was eventually identified to be 76 year old Henry Davenport) yelled; "I'm sorry, I'll pay you, I just need a week!" Seems to prove the conspiracy that the abductors hunt down those who owe loan sharks or perhaps even the government itself a hell of a lot of money. Furthermore, the criminal underground is a strange and terrifying beast. Some subscribe to the idea that the crime lords of London own the police, just like in one of those famous mobster movies. Whatever the case may be, if you find yourself walking the dark streets of Electric Avenue one night after midnight and a mysterious black car pulls up in front of you, run for your fucking life!
By Joseph Roy Wright12 months ago in Criminal
London's Best Detective
London's Best Detective was a middle-aged man named Wayne Bateman, he was a very sought after Private Eye; "Britain's Greatest Detective" he was known as. For good reason, as Wayne had helped police solve some of the most insane conspiracies and murder cases, that ever disturbed the city of London. He was a cop in his youth, then slowly but gradually climbed up the ranks until he became the best of the very fucking best! In my previous story, I wrote about the legendary Clown Thieves, who made headlines for their many daring robberies across London, while dressed like punks with clownish makeup. Detective Bateman was assigned to investigating these mysterious pranksters, the difference between his by the book, good cop and super serious demeanour compared to their jokey, mocking and theatrical persona was a comical contrast. Detective Bateman often wore a black trench coat and fedora, looking like some 1940s noir Detective straight out of pulp fiction. The more Detective Bateman looked into the Clown Thieves, the more he hated them. Causing chaos, misery and pain to the innocent people of London was no laughing matter! Yet, the love partners in crime often mocked their victims. The green haired clown would bully people after mugging them, often mocking their appearances. The female harlequin he partnered with would laugh at his terrible jokes, join in on the fun of belittling their targets. In some cases this mad couple would spray colourful, yet grotesque graffiti upon the walls of the shops and banks they stole from, usually in pinks, blues, reds, greens and purples. Catching the two of them proved tricky, as Bateman began investigating crime scenes that The Clown Thieves had made, they left no evidence and their thick disguises meant it was impossible for anyone to identify who they truly were behind the fancy dress. However as previously mentioned, they had built a gang across London, one that dressed like punks in frightening clown makeup, looking closer to that of warpaint. They often hung around the darkest streets of Camden at night, Bateman tracked a few of them down one cold evening in January. He drove around for a few hours before finding a few, he exited his black undercover police car and bravely entered the dark alleyway to confront them. Looking like some kind of comic book super hero, his features hidden in the dark, as he matched towards the gang leader, who was a huge man full of muscle and tattoos.
By Joseph Roy Wrightabout a year ago in Criminal
Love Partners In Crime
Hayley Quilt & Joe Carr were like a modern day reincarnation of Bonnie & Clyde. They both met one night in Camdem, attending a showing of their favourite punk band, inside one of the best nightclubs in all of London. It was a crazy night when they first met, the moshers were absolutely head banging like crazy, soon there was a fight, as several rockers began throwing fists within the mosh pit that played out before the band on stage. The rockstars jamming their guitars, drums and bass noticed the epic battle and didn't stop to prevent this madness. In fact, they actively encouraged this hell, screaming; "get smashed, you fucking cunts!" The singer screamed, then the guitarist played the most epic solo anyone had ever heard. It even made a few fighters stop, just admire the sheer awesomeness of the guitar player's talent. More than anything, this so-called "song" was more of a fighting track you'd hear in a video game. It consisted of a lot of nonsense screaming, banging on the drums and maddening guitar chords, as the band just played away like monkeys starved for bananas! It was an absolute riot and Joe Carr was absolutely loving it. He was punching harder than anyone else, kicking faster than even the most seasoned smack heads. In the middle of this indoor riot, Hayley was struggling to defend herself against a huge bitch with a pierced nose and short blue hair. Joe Carr saw the younger woman named Hayley and jumped in to save her, like some kind of comic book super hero! He pulled the mad woman away from cute little Hayley, whose blonde ponytail had been pulled by the blue haired bitch. "You ok, darlin?!" Joe Carr said to her. "Nah, that bitch pulled my hair out, what a cunt!" "Yeah, I know!" Joe spat at the blue haired fleeing woman, who was now exiting the nightclub. "Glad she's gone!" Hayley laughed cutely, "I've never seen you around London before." "Name's Joe." He grinned, "how about you?" "Hayley Quilt!" She yelled over the loud as fuck music, "this band's the shit!" "Eh, they're not that bad!" Joe laughed. "No!" She chuckled, weakly punching his shoulder, "I said, they are THE shit!" "Ah..." Joe grinned, "I couldn't hear you proper!" "I gathered that, lad!" She kissed him! Just like that. He embraced her right there and then, squeezing her peachy ass and tits, pulling her in closer. She pulled away. "Let's get out of here!" She whispered seductively into his ear. He held her hand and together; they exited the insane mosh pit, walking outside into the chilly night. They cuddled each other as they walked back to his place, which to her relief wasn't too far from the nightclub they just left. Coincidentally they lived in the same council estate, only his apartment was much bigger and closer to town than hers, in other words; he had a nicer home. This only excited her more, as she began to slowly undress the moment they got into the living room. "Hold on girl, we ain't even got to the bedroom yet." Joe smirked. "Fuck me now!" She winked seductively and threw herself on top of him, they both fell back onto his living room sofa and began to kiss, lick and touch each other all over. She watched in pure ecstasy as he unzipped his black jeans, yanked off her pretty pink knickers and fucked her little cunt without protection, but she didn't mind. Oh no, she didn't mind at all, as he thrusted deeper and deeper, she screamed and moaned. "Oh god, f- fuck me harder, Joe!" She stuttered cutely, then Joe grinned and went all in. "FUCKING HELL!" She orgasmed, "don't stop, you fucking fuck boy!" She demanded upon feeling him pull away. He didn't say a word, instead he sucked her lips and licked his tongue against hers, the erotic thrill of having her breathing blocked while simultaneously being fucked up the pussy was beyond heavenly, it was heroin. Eventually he exploded inside her as she crawled into his back so hard it actually bled, it was the best sex any of them ever had.
By Joseph Roy Wrightabout a year ago in Criminal
Bus Robbers
It was an ice cold winter in London, snow was falling after Christmas had just ended in January 1998. Now let me tell you, January is the worst time of year, I mean sure it can be quiet, somewhat peaceful but all the holidays are over and done with. At the end of the year you get Halloween, Bon Fire Night, Christmas then New Year's Eve and it's just so fucking great! Then January comes around and there is just nothing. Bugger all, except boredom and the long wait until winter finally fucks off so getting to work isn't so bloody dreadful. Well, there were these absolute pricks who had enough of working for a living, dragging themselves out of bed too early and travelling through the blizzards that chilled London that year was agony. It had been a long time coming, but the four young men teamed up to put an end to their shared misery. They planned to rob a bus. That's right, a public transport vehicle that they knew had been driving all around London all day long. The amount of money, a busy two decker bus like that must collect by the end of the day; it must've had hundreds if not thousands of pounds locked away in the driver's money box, just under the steering wheel. On top of that, they could also mug all the passengers. Of course people who got the bus were rarely minted, but it couldn't hurt to collect a few pennies as well. So one Saturday night, when it was snowing madly and the weather was freezing, they all coated up in huge coats, balaclavas and hats, hiding illegal pistols they had dared to buy through shady dealers. Perhaps getting these weapons was more expensive than it was worth, but they were all confident they could make back their money in an instant plus profit. After buying the guns, there was no turning back. Even if they didn't rob the bus, they'd rob something else, maybe a shop or a small bank. They all knew that was incredibly risky though, the best part about robbing a bus was that they would already get an escape vehicle in an instant. Although, as they'd soon come to learn the hard way; a huge double decker bus in the snow isn't the greatest vehicle to getaway in. So they all met up at the second to last bus stop before the bus returned to station, knowing too well a lot of people would still be waiting to get off at either this stop or the next one. That's how they'd collect the most money. So then the bus arrived and all four of them, Randy, Peter, Simon and Daniel all climbed abroad like normal, only when the bus driver asked them for money, they instead pulled out their pistols. Randy aimed his at the driver's head, while the rest of his gang aimed their guns at the passengers. Everyone screamed (except for the masked robbers), holding their hands up in surrender, including the bus driver. Nobody challenged the masked gun men, especially after Peter fired a warning shot at the window, to let everyone know they were serious. People reluctantly handed over their wallets and purses, all with the biggest frowns possible, some were even crying or so scared they were trembling with terror.
By Joseph Roy Wrightabout a year ago in Criminal
The Dumbest Criminals. Top Story - January 2025.
Barry & Gary were a couple of absolute spanners! Dumb as rocks those two blokes were, they became a laughing stock in London, nobody took them seriously. Not even your old gran would be threatened by their pathetic attempts at threats, they looked as dim-witted as they appeared too. Both of whom were balding and pudgy, looking like aged bulldogs that do nothing but grumble, sleep and shit all day long. If they didn't look so bloody hilarious, they might've been shot in the head, both of them, long before this story. Gangsters kept the two spanners alive, just to point and laugh at them, I suppose. Barry & Gary were "wannabe thugs", who often preyed on teenagers instead of grown men like themselves, yet they would still get battered by the rowdy chavs more often than not. Whenever the police were knocking about, they'd both shit themselves and leg it, like a couple of rats! The two men were cousins who grew up in the nicer part of Essex, but always wanted to appear tough and rough, putting on fake cockney accents and walking with their arms stretched out, looking like your mam carrying the shopping bags home. This went on for years, trying to appear like the hardest men in London, only to fail every time. So, of course they got desperate. Started bars fights and always lost, began pick pocketing and always got caught. Always ran whenever a knife was pulled out on them or something. They decided to rob a barbers one day, that's right. Not a bank, not a shop, not even a restaurant, a barbers. It was a start I guess, how hard could that be? They often visited the same place to get their haircut, so nobody expected them to try and rob the place. They entered on a Saturday morning at 9AM.
By Joseph Roy Wrightabout a year ago in Critique
Past Life Syndrome
Sometimes I have strange nightmares. It's fair to say, we all have weird dreams from time to time, but these nightmares feel so real it's downright eerie. Nothing strange or otherworldly happens in these specific nightmares of mine. I know what a regular nightmare is like, because I've had them too. Ones where the world changes shape before your eyes, as you go from walking down a quiet road to suddenly flying like a bird, then you're sinking in a huge ship all of a sudden without even comprehending what's going on. These nightmares ain't like that, they're more like memories. I'm a world war 2 soldier in these nightmares, even though I know that's impossible as I'm only 13 years old and the year is 2001! Maybe it's all those shooting games I play, but even so, those titles are always set in the future, so why am I dreaming about world war 2 when I barely know a thing about history? I've never even played a historical shooter, or even watched a documentary about the war. All I know is the Germans fought the English and Americans for some reason or another. Yet, in these dreams I know everyone well and truly. My sergeant is named Jonathan Lee, he has a wide moustache coloured brown with speckles of grey. He is older than the rest of us, while Jonathan is in his early thirties. Our Corporal, Miles Parker is almost thirty, he is second in command of our very small squad. Just like Jonathan his black hair is getting slightly grey at the sides, he doesn't have a mustache though, looking closer to the rest of us. In these dreams I am called Private Charlie Soap, I don't know how I look as this soldier, as there ain't any mirror or reflected surfaces to be found in these war dreams of mine. My closest friend is is a ginger named Private Kyle Connors, I don't know his age but he seems younger than me, like a kid, perhaps some teen who faked his age to get into the army. I guess he's around 16 years old, maybe younger, I (as Charlie Soap) keep him in check and calm by constantly reassuring him. The last member of this squad is Private Ryan West, he is very distant and hard to talk to, like he's severely cell-shocked with a thousand yard stare, he has blonde hair that is greasy and dirty with mud and blood, although he seems young too. I feel as though he is slightly older than myself and Kyle, he looks around 25 so maybe Charlie Soap (my dream self) is between 21-23 years old. Sometimes we're all having a laugh, decent banter between the lad, even Jonathan Lee shares the odd dirty joke. We come out with things my parents would wince at, if they only knew the unsavoury things I've heard come from my squad mates. However the reason I refer to these visions as nightmares, is simply because most of the time we are at war! We're storming into buildings and shooting German soldiers, with huge guns that deafen your hearing. I don't know what's louder, the blood curdling screams of terror or the raw firepower of a rapid firing machine gun. I can hear every footstep, every grunt, even the wind itself while experiencing these nightmares. I've seen bullets tear a human head into bloodied mush, saw people (both allies and enemies), become mince meat as shotgun blasts batter their bodies into hideous gore. There are visions of grown men, cowering like scared little boys, as huge battle tanks come storming down the mountains. War is hell. I never really listened to my grandfather, who explained just how terrible it all was, perhaps the video games I played made combat seem fun, but it truly is not! It's agony, to shoot the trigger, or to be shot is both a cruel and awful thing. To kill anyone just feels despicable, even in self-defence. To get wounded by a gunshot (as Charlie Soap often did) is beyond agony itself, the pain is so unbearable you almost welcome death, just to stop the burning sensation that overwhelms your whole being. In these nightmares I see my war friends die. Jonathan Lee tries to be a hero and dives onto an active grenade, exploding through his stomach, splattering his bones and flesh all over us. Corporal Parker holds off a stampede of Germans racing into a crumbling building we have a stronghold over, he fires wildly, almost like an action movie hero, killing a few before getting torn to shreds himself. The last of us, Me (as Charlie), Kyle and Ryan charge upstairs to higher ground, we lean over a balcony and shoot down into the dark, we can barely see whose coming upstairs from down there, but we hear a few German voices scream as we shoot blindly into the blackness. I can hear bodies tumbling downstairs, even the sound of blood bursting from gun wounds, it's all so vivid and real I'm certain this isn't just a nightmare, but some real event from actual history. Ryan is braver than me and Kyle, so he leans over the balcony more and fires better than we do. Unfortunately he is shot in the head, a single bullet races through his right eye and he falls over the railing, screaming to his death. I throw Kyle into a small room and barricade the door. "No, Charlie! Don't leave me!" He begs, banging on the closed door. "Stay quiet and you might jus-" I hear a loud bang, followed by blinding light. Then I awake from the same nightmare every night, where I supposedly die in world war 2 with Kyle's fate forever unknown. I started dreaming about this event last year, just before I turned 13, now I'm almost 14 and the nightmare continues. No matter what I do, I can't change the past. I can't save myself or any of my other comrades. It's like a movie you've seen a million times, perhaps a horror movie you dread because you know when everyone's going to die but you really love the characters. So it stings every time you see them fall, yet I can't turn the television off or stop watching, I'm forced to live through that hell, over and over again. It's not really scary, at least not anymore, it's more depressing if anything. If a dream is supposed to be nice, but a nightmare is meant to be scary. Then what is a sad dream called? A bad dream, maybe? I'm seriously depressed because of it all, I try to stay up as late as I can, often going into school too tired and irritated because my mind just returns to those terrible events. I don't know why, but it's driving me crazy and I certainly don't like it. Not one bit.
By Joseph Roy Wrightabout a year ago in Horror
