During 2018’s A-Z Challenge, we wrote the first draft of “The November Deadline” and to celebrate that this is now (finally) out with beta readers, we’ll be producing a daily piece of micro-fiction linked to it – some prequel, some containing a detail not included in the story, some snippets from sequels currently being written.
The restless feeling that had consumed Isaac, the feeling that he was ossifying, or putting down the wrong kind of roots in London, was well and truly gone. In fact, he’d barely had time to process what had happened that night in the docks. He’d barely finished paying his respects to the late Frank Fields, a comrade in arms even though they’d never met, when he’d been given a packet of documents, a train ticket and sent to make a delivery to Angelsey. Then it had been Zeal Monachorum in Devon, and all over the bloomin’ country. He’d considered himself lucky when there was an opportunity to spend a night in a hotel, even if the places he stayed were on a par with his old, slightly seedy digs. Three weeks of this – how much more? Still it kept him busy. Tomorrow he was heading to Theydon Bois.
© 2021, David Jesson & Debra Carey