Little Inspirations: animal characters

Asmar and Fingers from You’ll Never Walk Alone

If you’ve read any of my books you’ll know that animal characters feature somewhere in all of them. Sometimes they just hop in and hop out again, like the baby rabbit in The Silver Locket, or Astra, the small back cat with the white star on her forehead, who wanders in and out of Following the Green Rabbit. Others play a much more prominent role, like little Toti, the Professor’s small sidekick in Song of the Sea Goddess or these two, pictured above.

You can always rest assured that no animal in any book I write will ever come to any permanent harm. And, fellow authors, I’ll tell you, I become deeply distressed if you kill off one of your animal characters, never mind the fact your story might demand it! If an animal appears in a book I’m reading, I start to fear for its safety and I’ll frequently page though the book to find out whether it makes it to the end.

I write for my own pleasure and that, I hope, of my reader too. None of my novels are particularly serious. All are spattered with at least an element of fantasy, and a handful of quirky characters, especially clever animal characters, tend to come with the territory. Or at least they do in my writing. All my principal characters have a responsibility to contribute to the plot and to move the story forward; they have a duty to draw each other out and offer one another opportunities to demonstrate different facets of their personalities. The non-human players are no exception.

My animal characters frequently feature in my favourite scenes and I particularly enjoyed writing those which included Asmar and Fingers in my Liverpool-based book, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. These for me are the superstars of my pages, but from what part of my imagination did they spring?

Asmar the cat belongs to Cynthia, a charming and independent woman ‘of a certain age’. Her cat is the perfect match for her, an exotic Abyssinian, both beautiful and intelligent, with an instinct for tracking and a sense of adventure. The ‘real’ Asmar, both in name and appearance, was a cat that belonged to the chef-patron of a tiny restaurant in a village in northern France where we stayed on holiday, many years ago. With a gentle nature and an enigmatic bearing, he stepped delicately into the role.

Fingers is the naughty young monkey who accompanies Bob in his transit van, doing errands and striking slightly dodgy deals for his market-trader gran, with whom he stays. Both characters might well be referred to as ‘scallies’ in scouse (Liverpool) slang: ‘rascal or miscreant, scallywag.’ But these two aren’t malicious or wicked, they just do a bit of ‘dodging and weaving’ to get by. They represent many people of the time: the book is set in the 1980s, when the city was at its lowest and jobs were very hard to come by.

The excerpt below, is one of my favourite chase scenes. It also includes a potential cameo appearance for my husband, sitting in a battered red Ford Capri, which he used to drive back in the late 1980s – just in case the book is ever made into a movie😉.

Excerpt from You’ll Never Walk Alone

Gary pounded down the road following the sound of Bob cursing. He soon caught up with him. Bob was clutching a lamp-post by the entrance to Princes Park. He was breathing heavily. Bob nodded to the road opposite. “He headed off up Princes Road there,” he gasped, “following that cat of Cynthia’s.” He caught his breath and shook his head, “I dunno what’s got into him.”

Gary scanned the road in front of them. A movement caught his eye. “There he is,” he pointed to a bench on the central area between the two carriageways which formed the once elegant boulevard. “The cat’s there too.”

The two animals perched on the graffitied bench, watched as Gary jogged towards them. Bob followed a little way behind. Gary slowed down as he neared the bench, then suddenly Asmar leapt down and scurried away further up the road. Fingers chattered excitedly and followed, loping after the cat.

“They’re off again,” Gary shouted over his shoulder to Bob who was already lagging behind him. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch the little blighter.”

“Right behind you,” Bob called out breathlessly.

Gary set off at a run this time. He’d been a good sprinter in school and was determined to catch up with the little monkey who would surely tire soon. Asmar, no doubt, could keep this up for a while, but then he could look after himself. As Gary narrowed the gap between them, Fingers changed direction and headed for the trees which lined the pavement on the left-hand side of the road. Swinging from branch to branch, he continued after Asmar, who’d also crossed the roadway and was hugging the low wall below the swaying branches.

Gary raced on keeping both animals in sight. As the trees came to an end, Fingers dropped down onto the wall below. Asmar changed direction and headed down a side street on the left. Fingers was now on the other side of the wall and Gary lost sight of him, but he could see Asmar trotting along the pavement. The cat looked purposeful, as if he knew exactly where he was going, and there was no doubt in Gary’s mind that Fingers was following him. He would just have to do the same. He turned to see Bob some way behind, he waved and pointed where they were heading next.

The wall ended and Fingers emerged just behind Asmar who shot across the road. Gary heard the sound of an engine and turned to see a car coming around the corner. Fingers was loping across the road following the cat, totally unaware of the danger from the oncoming vehicle. Gary stepped off the pavement waving his arms in the air. The car driver slowed. Gary could see the driver was mouthing something at him. He glanced the other way to see Fingers safely across the road, then turned back to the driver who was shaking his head at him. Gary shrugged and mouthed ‘sorry’ at the driver. As the car drew level with Gary, the driver continued to shake his head, mouthing an obscenity before accelerating away.

A classier and tidier version of the car my husband used to drive

Unfazed, Gary jogged across the road. Up ahead, Asmar had stopped and was sitting on the pavement licking a front paw. Fingers was nowhere in sight. Gary scanned around. Then he saw the little monkey perched on the bonnet of a tatty red Ford Capri which was parked at the kerbside. Fingers had his back to Gary and was peering at the driver through the windscreen. The man was hunched down in his seat as if trying to remain unobserved. Gary walked slowly towards the car, hoping to scoop Fingers up before he noticed his approach. He watched as the man in the Capri sank down even further behind the small steering wheel. Fingers had turned his attention to the car’s aerial and was prodding it curiously, watching as it sprang back and forth. Gary was level with the bonnet of the car; he sprang forward, grabbing Fingers around the middle with both hands. Fingers squeaked in surprise and wriggled furiously, but Gary had him firmly in his grip. Fingers clutched at the aerial trying to resist capture, all the time screeching in protest. Gary glanced at the driver who was furiously gesturing for them to get away from the car. Gary pulled, Fingers held onto the aerial. Suddenly it snapped and Fingers ricocheted into Gary’s chest, brandishing the broken aerial aloft. Gary looked at the driver. His hands were gripping the steering wheel and his head was resting between them. Gary sprinted off clutching Fingers to his chest and ducked into the first back alley he came to.

Gary leant against the rough brick wall. Fingers had quietened down and was sitting calmly in his arms, still brandishing the car aerial. Gary peered around the corner into the street but all was quiet. The driver was still in his car. He sank back onto the wall.

“Gaz! Gaz! Where are yer?” Gary heard Bob shouting as he hurried up the road. “Alright, mate,” he said cheerfully, knocking on the window of the Capri. “Have you seen a fella chasing a monkey? Must’ve come down ‘ere.”

“Come on, here’s Bob now,” said Gary to Fingers. “Over here,” he called to Bob, as he emerged from the alleyway. Gary watched Bob shrug his shoulders at the occupant of the Capri. “Suit yerself,” he muttered.

Seeing Bob, Fingers let out a loud chirrup. Gary set him down on the pavement as Bob held out his arms to the little monkey. No sooner had he done so, Asmar appeared from the other side of the road meowing loudly. Fingers turned towards the cat who immediately changed direction and dashed off up the road.

“Oh no you don’t mate,” said Bob reaching down to pick Fingers up, but the little monkey was too quick for him. Gary almost got a hand under him, but he bolted off after the cat, dropping the aerial in the road.

“Here we go again,” said Gary turning to follow.

“Hold on, Gaz, I don’t how or why, but look,” he nodded his head at the two animals who were now sitting on a low wall at the corner of the street. “They’re waiting for us to go after them. I’m sure of it.”

“So we just follow them?”

Bob shrugged. “Seems weird, but I guess so.”


You’ll Never Walk Alone is available from Amazon in paperback and ebook and on Kindle Unlimited
USA UK ~ CAN ~ AUS IND ~ the rest of the world

Image credits: newworldencyclopedia.org, kidadl.com, classics.honestjohn.co.uk

The Facility #8

Stretching out your hand towards the familiar face, the one you remember from the mirror, your fingertips brush lightly over the surface of the tank; the occupant’s eyes blink open and the mouth gapes back at you in surprise – or is it horror? Recoiling from the unexpected engagement, you step back, a silent oath escaping your lips, as your companion – or rather, your colleague – takes you gently by the elbow and steers you to a desk in the corner of the room.

Gazing nervously over your shoulder, you look down at the journal that lies open before you. Recognizing your own handwriting, your eyes explore the text, the calculations, the diagrams – it’s all here – your head whips around once again and the face which floats behind the glass implores you: end this!

Mind whirring, you page desperately through the journal’s dated entries – puzzle pieces click and unclick, form and re-form – you sweep the journal from the desk and rush from the room, through the door and into the corridor; footsteps follow as you hurtle down the stairs to the exit, where you throw open the fire escape doors and run into the street; your only instinct is to flee… straight into the waiting arms of the blank-faced orderly.

He eases you into the waiting wheelchair and pushes you back into the building where the homely-looking nurse in her crisp white uniform stands waiting, clipboard in hand; she smiles: ‘Welcome back, Dr Conel, we’ve been expecting you.’


Confused? You might be! Read previous episodes of The Facility here.

Written in response to two challenges:

– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – OATH, ENGAGE, PUSH
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – EXPLORE

Photo credit: Scott Webb on Unsplash

More Splendid Sixes HERE – watch out for the zombies!

Treasure Island

He’s sailed around the seven seas
with plumed hat, sword and swagger
he’s crossed the oceans, plumbed the depths
in search of golden treasure.

Hail me hearties, brave and true
he stands with dagger raised
as maidens swoon and young men cheer
he doffs his hat to all.

Now stranded on a distant shore
on an island far away
the last man of his crew alive
he scans the seas each day.

But finally, a ship appears
the Captain’s surely saved
with heaps of gold and strings of pearls
there’s much he has to offer.

Once more he sails across the seas
with plumed hat, sword and dagger
and rues the day he set a course
for Blackbeard’s Isle of Treasure.


Image credit: Tumisu @ Pixabay

Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #95 photo prompt.

The image shows a pirate with treasure chest on one open page of a book and a ship on the other. Random alphabets are scattered in the space in between..

Little Inspirations: a tribute

The ‘Team’ on a Christmas trip to see the movie, Long Walk to Freedom. (My photo)

It’s been a sad week. I lost someone who was important in my life. One of the first people whom I met when I arrived to live here on South Africa’s shores. A man I met at the clinic here in Somerset West, where I was part of a volunteer group providing help and support to people living with chronic diseases like HIV and TB, which I talked about a few weeks ago. His name was Johannes and he was part of our team (pictured above).

He had already been living with HIV for some 12 years when we first met, although you wouldn’t have thought he was sick. He was our greatest advocate in the campaign we were running to dispel the myths and the stigma attached to HIV. Within our group was a safe place to speak, a place where people could share their stories without judgment. It was through sharing these stories that I started to get to know Johannes.

In my guest post ‘From the Writer’s Desk’ on da-AL’s blog, Happiness Between the Tails, back in January this year, I talked about how some of the main characters in Song of the Sea Goddess came to be. Johannes was one of them.

“A few of my key characters are based on people I met when I first came to live in South Africa. …people who come from what are euphemistically called ‘formerly disadvantaged communities’…

I could have written about some of their struggles, about the conditions in which they live, about the poverty and lack of opportunity… but as I got to them better, I realised that none of them wants to dwell on any of that.

So I decided I could give them better lives, locate them in a much more pleasant place and put a positive spin on this beautiful country.”

You can read the full version here.

Our support group folded after a couple of years, but by that time Johannes was working for me as a gardener, painter and general handy man. In fact, there was little that he couldn’t turn his hand to. His stories continued through our coffee breaks – of how he ran away to sea at the age of twelve and worked on the deep-sea trawlers for years, how he came home, got into a fight and was jailed and then, after he was released, how he turned his life around.

There’s a lovely little pen portrait of ‘Jannie’ by Robbie Cheadle in her recent review of Song of the Sea Goddess on her blog, Roberta Writes. I was delighted the way she ‘got’ all of my characters, and these few lines sum up the character Johannes inspired (and a little part of Johannes himself) perfectly.

“Jannie is an ex-convict who has discovered the errors of his ways and allowed his better nature to reassert itself. He is a lover of animals and the stray dog featured in the story, and Toti, the monkey, both love him.”

The fictional Jannie gets his long brown-black dreadlocks, his watchfulness and his willingness to help from Johannes. He gets his understanding, his gentle ways and his kindness too, as well as his ability to fight in the defence of his friends.

It’s ironic that the da-AL’s post was prefaced by her and her husband’s Covid experience. Fortunately, they came through. Johannes wasn’t so lucky and it was he that I was thinking of when I wrote my poem, Last Gasp on Monday. He lost that particular fight late on Tuesday evening.

Johannes wasn’t just a gardener and handyman, he wasn’t just a source of stories, he was my friend and I shall miss him very much. But just as he will live on in the hearts and memories of those who knew him, part of him will live on in the pages of Song of the Sea Goddess, and the so far unfinished sequel, as well.

Sunset over the Berg River ©Cliff Davies 2019

Johannes Williams, 10.03.64 – 10.08.21
May the sun never set on your memory.

The Facility #7

White-knuckled, you grip the handrail as your companion urges you to hurry down several flights of stairs while the words you’ve just seen written on the wall, seemingly in your own hand, still circle around in your head, nudging at the nodes of your memory; puzzle pieces trying to assemble.

At the next landing, your companion motions you to stop while he peers through the viewing panel in one of the double doors; satisfied, he motions you over and you slip through the door after him, across the hallway and along another anonymous corridor until you come to another unmarked door, where he withdraws a key-card from his pocket and thrusts it into the lock, before hauling you inside.

You stare about the space, where a multitude of machines are whirring; a large central desk dominates the room, on it is a photograph showing twelve people, dressed in white lab coats like the one you’re wearing now: all of them look familiar.

Your companion guides you through a second door and when you enter what you see triggers the puzzle pieces to click into place; you fall to your knees, the burden of your understanding crushing you, but in this newly-established reality, the bioethics of what you now realise you and your companions have done are not the priority.

Within the blue-lit gloom are a series of twelve tanks, each contains a body connected to a central station via a series of wires and tubes.

One of them is yours.


Confused? You might be! Read previous episodes of The Facility here.

Written in response to two challenges:

– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – YES, ETHICS, KNEE
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – GRIP

Photo credit: Scott Webb on Unsplash

Click here for more Sixes!

Last Gasp

Insides flaming
throat burning
lungs pounding
clinging on.

Guts heaving
mouth screaming
chest thumping
hanging on.

Dawn’s breaking
heads shaking
surprised she survived
the endless night.

Fingers clawing
rasping, gasping
body stiffens…

her dragon roars
no more.


Image credit: Sean Thomas @ Unsplash

Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #94 photo prompt.

The image shows shows a huge stone dragon on top of a building.

Jacqui Murray is on the Launch Pad!

It’s my great pleasure to welcome Jacqui Murray to this month’s Launch Pad spot. You may well already be familiar with Jacqui through her blog, WordDreams, others of you will know her through her books. It is Jacqui who introduced me to the wonderful world of prehistoric fiction, a genre I hadn’t heard of before, but now I can tell you, I’m totally hooked!

So, let’s find out a little bit more about her. We’ll start with her official author bio:

Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular prehistoric fiction sagaMan vs. Nature which explores seminal events in man’s evolution one trilogy at a time. She is also the author of the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers and Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy. Her non-fiction includes over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, reviews as an Amazon Vine Voice,  a columnist for NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Her next prehistoric fiction, Natural Selection, is due for release in winter 2022.

~~~

Before we come to Jacqui’s latest book release, let me share what Jacqui as to tell us about her journey into self-publishing and finding her authorial voice.

Finding my Voice – by Jacqui Murray

I have been writing fiction for about 25 years (non-fiction longer, but that’s a different story). When I started, I wanted to write the biography of a prehistoric female – how she survived when experts said she shouldn’t. I took some classes, attended conferences, read a bunch of books, and got excited about writing as a craft. An agent suggested I not write prehistoric fiction because the market was too small so I switched to thrillers. I wrote one, another, both well received but they didn’t sell much. I figured if I was going to write and NOT sell, I might as well write what I wanted so I switched back to prehistoric fiction. My first novel, Born in a Treacherous Time, was rejected over one hundred times but still, I wrote another, Survival of the Fittest. That too was rejected one hundred times (I stopped sending out queries when I received my 100th rejection).  Repeat for two more and then I stopped submitting to traditional publishers. I got whatever message they were sending and decided to self-publish. Yes, I was confused and intimidated, like a web browser with nineteen tabs open, seventeen of them frozen and one with music blasting but I couldn’t tell where it came from.

But none of that mattered. I was in charge of my destiny and that felt good. I peacocked for a while and then went back to work.

Somewhere along the line, I figured out my voice. That was scary at first, putting a book out to the public written the way I wanted but I felt good about what I was writing. I knew the rules, which to follow and which to bend, and understood the importance readers place on how a story is told. In fact, that is as important as rules. By the third book written my way, I began to gain traction and sell enough that I could even call myself a writer.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some success. A first place in a writing competition. Quarter finals in a national competition. I even had an agent for a while… That’s another story. I’ve tried quitting, but I’m back at it within weeks, like an addict. I know people who quit smoking and their rough period starts when they quit and continues till they die. Is that what being a reformed writer would be: “Hello, my name is Jacqui and it’s been ten days since I edited my last novel.” I get the shakes thinking of that.

If you’re trying to find your voice, here are my suggestions:

  • Know the rules of writing in your genre
  • Talk to professionals in that genre about your writing
  • Then, write the way you want to, with passion and energy. That’s your voice. You’ll find a group of people who like it and that will be good enough.

Someone once said about the death of one particular amazing writer whose stories seemed to be effortless:

Talent on loan from God. Talent returned to God.

When you find your voice, that’s what it feels like, as though someone greater than you is whispering in your ear and you darn well better listen.

~~~

Jacqui’s latest release is Laws of Nature, the second book in her Dawn of Humanity trilogy. I finished reading this only last week, and I recommend it whole-heartedly!

The Blurb

A boy blinded by fire. A woman raised by wolves. An avowed enemy offers help.

In this second of the Dawn of Humanity trilogy, the first trilogy in the Man vs. Nature saga, Lucy and her eclectic group escape the treacherous tribe that has been hunting them and find a safe haven in the famous Wonderwerk caves in South Africa, the oldest known occupation of caves by humans. They don’t have clothing, fire, or weapons, but the caves keep them warm and food is plentiful. But they can’t stay, not with the rest of the tribe enslaved by an enemy. To free them requires not only the prodigious skills of Lucy’s unique group–which includes a proto-wolf and a female raised by the pack–but others who have no reason to assist her and instinct tells Lucy she shouldn’t trust.

Set 1.8 million years ago in Africa, Lucy and her tribe struggle against the harsh reality of a world ruled by nature, where predators stalk them and a violent new species of man threatens to destroy their world. Only by changing can they prevail. If you ever wondered how earliest man survived but couldn’t get through the academic discussions, this book is for you. Prepare to see this violent and beautiful world in a way you never imagined.

Book information

Title and author: Laws of Nature
Series: Book 2 in the Dawn of Humanity series
Genre: Prehistoric fiction
Editor: The extraordinary Anneli Purchase
Available (print or digital) at: Kindle US   Kindle UK   Kindle CA   Kindle AU  Kindle India

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Follow Jacqui here!

Amazon Author Page:          www.amazon.com/Jacqui-Murray/e/B002E78CQQ/

Blog:                                      https://worddreams.wordpress.com

Instagram:                             https://www.instagram/jacquimurraywriter

LinkedIn:                                http://linkedin.com/in/jacquimurray

Pinterest:                                http://pinterest.com/askatechteacher

Twitter:                                   http://twitter.com/worddreams

Website:                                 https://jacquimurray.net

The Facility #6

You stare at the unlocked door as the disturbance outside retreats; alert to danger, you slowly get to your feet and shuffle towards the door, where you hesitantly turn the handle; now, peering around the edge, you hear frenetic footsteps pounding back along the corridor towards you.

It’s one of them – one of you, your mind corrects itself – you’re about to shut the door, when the figure, with its blurred blank face, just like yours, bursts into your room and thrusts a lab coat at you, gesturing to you to put it on.

Dragged along the sterile bright-white corridor, counting off the doors, you recognise the route to the elevator; your companion urges you to hurry and you break into a shambling run-walk; then you turn the final corner, the sliding doors open and, stumbling inside, the elevator swallows you both up.

Your companion punches a button and slumps against the control panel breathing heavily; the elevator ascends: you count the floors – counting has become a habit – and when the elevator slows to a stop, you realise you must be on the top-most floor.

The elevator opens and your companion beckons you across the hallway to a set of double doors, leading to an endless stairway; the doors snap shut behind you and bile rises in your throat as you, in a moment of clarity, read the words daubed on the wall opposite:

YOU WROTE THIS

YOU CAN MAKE THIS STOP

Your companion thrusts you towards the stairs.


Confused? You might be! Read previous episodes of The Facility here.

Written in response to two challenges:

– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – COAT, WROTE, THROAT
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – NET

Photo credit: Scott Webb on Unsplash

Read more Six Sentence Stories here – come and join the party!

Our verdant bower

Come, join hands
let’s walk together
our hushed feet will fall softly
on verdant ground
pause by the sapphire stream
listen to lush sounds
murmuring water
rustling leaves
bird song, insects whirring
breathe in, breathe deeply
scents of the earth
fragrance of flowers
close your eyes
breathe in, breathe out
taste the emerald air
feel the dappled golden sun
warming your face
here, safe, embraced
enfolded by nature
let us share our stories
in our woodland bower.


Image credit: Shane Rounce Unsplash

Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #93 photo prompt.

The image shows shows a tree trunk. We can see hands placed next to each other along the length of the tree trunk. The hands belong to people of different race, age, and gender.

Everybody needs a holiday!

Hippo, Moremi, Botswana

My response to Sadje’s What do you see? picture prompt on Monday, suggested to me that it might be nice for us all to hop on the tour bus and take a little virtual safari together to recharge our batteries. Also, my right shoulder is in particular need of a little rest from too much typing, so let’s just feast our eyes and listen to the sounds of nature….

Now you see me… Giraffes can disappear into the bush in a wink of an eye – this one was just outside Moremi Wildlife Park in Botswana – not all game is inside the Park!
Addo Elephant Park, Eastern Cape, South Africa – yes, he was that close!
A rather splendid stork from a boat trip on the edge of the Okavango Delta, Botswana
Vervet Monkey ‘traffic warden’ outside our accommodation at the Island Safari Lodge, Maun, Botswana – is this why little monkey characters, Fingers and Toti appear in my novels?
Monitor lizard snapped on the way back from breakfast on the banks of the Thamalakane River in Maun, Botwana
Hippos on the Zambezi

Have a lovely peaceful weekend, my friends!