The writer's back finally.

You may have noticed that I haven't been talking much about writing for a week or two. That's because I forgot how to be one. For over three weeks my newest creation has been floundering because I didn't know where to go. It's odd because I know exactly how it will end. I just didn't know how to get there. 

    But finally I'm back. I simply decided to write the last third of the book from a new place. I'll just splice the two parts together in the many edits to follow. 

    It's good to be back.

    Alas the same cannot be said for my hero, Arnold Pratt, who's about to fall victim to his worst enemy.

    ‘Get on with it. You were a man once.’ His words echoed mockingly from the tunnel below as he slowly, fearfully lowered his other foot onto the rung, grasping the steel rails as hard as his mud covered hands would allow, before feeling carefully down for the next. Maybe there weren’t two. Maybe there was only a few feet down to the bottom of wherever it went. But it wasn’t to be that easy. By the time he’d ordered his heart to quit its hammering he was down to the third rung, his head almost level with the ground. If there was much more then sod this for a game of soldiers. He was leaving and getting far away from here.

    But that was Arnold’s final rational thought, for approximately five seconds after his trembling foot found the next rung a slight sensation in his ears alerted him to two things. The first was a sound, then a waft of displaced air just before an almighty thump on his head dislodged him from the ladder. He didn’t know that because he was unconscious, and falling.