This week: Attack Hitler’s Bunker released and a sneak preview.
Attack Hitler’s Bunker
This book is now available as a kindle book on Amazon and will be available as a paperback in the next 6 days. Response has been good so far, plenty of people have responded to my posts and tweets: 190 people read the first post on Facebook which is a higher figure than in the past.
This week’s is from a story which I am provisionally calling December Radio (I might have referred to it in the past as September Radio but it’s just a working title). I am back working on this now and I will attempt to complete this before December. This book can best be described as WWII/sci-fi and is about a whole number of characters in the War gradually discovering a secret plot by some unknown enemy. They do this through evidence from a series of supernatural events. It’s quite an existential project.
Copyright © 2013 by Lazlo Ferran
All Rights Reserved
07.56. The signal was not clear. Eric thought he might be dreaming. He tried to feel for the signal, twisting the knurled radio tuning knob. He watched the needle hover around 550KHz. Faint, but audible he heard again a Morse code signal: “May Day. May Day. KG100 1H H-Heinz, ditching seven miles north-west of Ostend.” Seven miles north-west of Ostend, and 100 feet beneath the bottle green North Sea swell, a conger eel settled back into the Daimler-Benz cowling on the Heinkel 111 H-Heinz, his home for the last two weeks. The decaying, pale corpses of the two crew members were unable to escape, then and now. They were wafted by the strong current, slow-motion dancers.
The farmer’s wife smelled, to her husband, of freshly baked bread. He nuzzled the nape of her neck. The howling wind, screaming across the Veldt was banished from this bedroom, as on many other nights, by the warmth of their love for each other. He slid his ham-hand under her night-dress and around her large, soft breast. She lifted her arm to grant him access.
“Are you asleep?” he whispered.
Feeling himself stiffen, in response to the call from her timeless body, he eased up the hem of her dress – the one with pretty red flowers which had been a gift from her mother before her death, and placed his hand firmly on the her rounded haunch. His breathing quickened. Hers quickened in reciprocation.
I don’t know if the film in this week’s blog title is any good or not – I haven’t seen it, but I do know that Spike Milligan was a very funny man so this is my tribute to him.