Tanya Doolin
Bio
If you would like to show your appreciation of what I write then feel free on click on the link to my Ko-Fi.
https://ko-fi.com/blueangel92
Stories (42)
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Zymbac Saves Christmas. Part Two.
Chapter Five. As the night wore on, the blizzard showed no signs of slowing down. Icy wind howled outside like a pack of hungry wolves, shaking the windows with its fury. Inside, little Timmy watched with growing unease as the snow piled up past the sill, sealing them inside a frozen dome.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 5.
Predawn light seeped into John's flat as he bustled about the kitchen, fortifying himself with robust tea and toasted crumpets for the labours ahead. Donning faded plaid robes and slippers, he extracted the dusty mimeograph machine from its long confinement beneath the bathroom sink. As he meticulously cleaned and adjusted the gears and rollers, John's pulse quickened in anticipation of producing the first subversive literature from its sputtering duplication drums in decades.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 4.
Sunlight shone through grimy windows, rousing John from slumber. His mind felt unusually clear this morning, vestiges of revelry at the fête still humming through his veins. Throwing back the duvet, John rose with vigour he had not known for years.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 3.
John was roused from his usual Nytol-induced stupor by the ringing of the bedside telephone. Blearily he lifted the receiver, surprised to hear his old mate Eddie chatting enthusiastically on the other end. There was to be a village fête in Elvington that weekend, their childhood home. Eddie insisted John join him there to reminisce about the good old days over a few pints. After a moment's hesitation, John agreed.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
Cold Beer and Hot Politics. Chapter 1.
The incessant ticking of the carriage clock on the mantel was the only sound breaking the oppressive silence that had settled on the flat. John sat motionless in his frayed armchair, staring blankly ahead as the clock hands etched their way towards half past ten. Thirty more minutes of wakeful consciousness remaining before he could seek respite in chemically-induced sleep.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
The Day the Spoons Vanished
Chapter 3: Seeking Answers I began to research the mystery of the disappearing spoons. Scouring online forums, I found others reporting similar experiences - vanishing keys, flickering lights, misplaced items glitching in and out of reality. Some attributed it to ghosts or psychic phenomena, but I sought a more concrete explanation
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
The Day the Spoons Vanished
Chapter 1: The Disappearing Spoon Waking up was the first thing to happen that morning, as it often does for people who sleep at night and rise again in daylight. Sunlight filtered through the blinds in lines across the bed as the eyes opened blinking awake into the new day.
By Tanya Doolin2 years ago in Chapters
