Hello, dear friends. It’s another Death Of 1000 Cuts – my podcast about learning to write super-well. Sorry it’s a bit late. Things are pretty hectic in Clare Towers (my house isn’t really called that) as we prep for the changeling. But oof! Here’s another episode and I hope you thoroughly enjoy it.

If you wanna submit your work for a future cast, here’s the link, baby. The extract is below. Please enjoy, and if you like it, share it!

Murder In The Lake District (by Jim)

I woke up, leapt out of bed and clambered over to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I saturated the bristles with a thick blue jelly-like liquid, ran the tap and began to brush. As I looked into the mirror I noticed that something had gone awry. My teeth had thinned, multiplied, turned yellow, inverted , sharpened and curled in my mouth!

“Bloody hell” I mutted as I stared into my own blank eyes. Then I heard knocking at the front door, which quickly turned into banging. I rushed down to the door in a panic, and opened it immediately to discover my father, gazing at me disappointingly, while rain showered him on the doorstep. The rain was matt white milk, and it was streaming down the road by the gutter. It was at this point that I realised I must have forgotten to put on my clothes and was fully naked. My father, arrested on my doorstep like a rusty statue gazed at me as if he hadn’t seen me for years and what he saw now, he had a lot of concern for. All I could do was look back at him and gesticulate, spreading my hands around and jabbing like a praying mantis. This attempt at communication continued ad nauseam for what seemed like a period of time equivalent to the remainder of my adult life.

All of a sudden I registered another presence. A figure began to walk past on the opposite side of the street wearing a full navy pin-stripe suit, crooning gently to himself.