“Let me have five minutes to gather myself. Then, yes.”
“I’ll direct you. I feel great. It’s like my leg is someone else’s. Are these even legal, Mina?”
Mina laughed, “Yes, prescription only though. Class A otherwise.”
“Mina,” Grace chided. “You can’t be giving drugs out to strangers. I thought I taught you better.” Mina reached over her seat and swatted at her friend. “Have you given some to this little guy too? He’s out for the count,” she said, regarding Zeke. “He’s so cute, though. Looks like you, Shannon.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you said that. See, Leighton. He’s cute because of me too!”
Tariq rested his head back against the seat and let his eyes shut. He pictured a slowly ebbing flame in the centre of his mind’s eye and watched it flicker ever smaller until he was left in the darkness of his own eyelids. The rest of the vehicle sat watching him, simply waiting for them to get back moving again.
The engine started back up suddenly, causing everyone to shuffle in their seats. Leighton called directions from behind Tariq as they moved through the seemingly endless, indiscriminate roads. Leighton occasionally slowed Tariq down to catch a glance at the road signs, often calling one direction first and then correcting himself with another.
Tariq couldn’t tell whether the time was passing fast or slow. They could have been driving for five minutes or five hours as far as his wearied brain could determine. He could feel Leighton moving restlessly in the seat behind him. His knees knocking into the seat in front. Tariq fought his irritation and desire to collapse.
Ahead of them, a shimmer of orange lined the horizon. They were heading back east, but Tariq had barely noticed the sky paling, his focus solely on the asphalt in front of them. His eyes held at a position closer and closer to the car as his cognisance declined further and further.
“Slow, Tariq,” Leighton said. “It’s on the left in just a moment.”
The three women in the car cheered.
“Oh, thank fuck!” Tariq screamed.
“Language!” Shannon scolded.
“Oh, we can change the word to one of celebration when we write the history book detailing this particular fu-, day,” he said, remembering slightly too late to censor himself.
“Left here. Take it slow. It’s bumpy,” Leighton indicated.
Tariq drove the car slowly and carefully down the narrow lane. The pale wash of early morning light casting shadows from the silos and outbuildings. Reminiscent, but different enough to subdue the memories of the last farm he had the misfortune to visit.
Tariq pulled up the handbrake and all remnants of energy drained from him. He flopped across the vehicle, his head landing in Mina’s lap. He faintly heard Leighton calling for his parents to come down.
Mina rested her hand on Tariq’s dirty, sweat-streaked head. She spoke softly. “Thank you.”
Leighton threw his arms up exuberantly and yelled, “Thank FUCK!”
“Language, Leighton!” His mother chided.
About James M Hopkins
It is an important thing as an adult to continually have something that you can always get better at. For me I have always had a creative outlet I have allowed to absorb me; an activity that I can focus on and improve at little by little, taking from it small regular senses of success or achievement. Writing itself - with music and bass guitar before that - is for me a perfect method of escape from the world. The other thing it gives me is a way to legitimise my aloof and fantastical nature; and a way that I can share that with the world.
My first forays into reading completely obsessed me with developed worlds and engaging characters. The earliest I can remember being the Chronicles of Narnia (I read the whole series cover to cover around the age of six or seven, I couldn't even eat without one of the books in my hand) and the second being The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings (I remember reading this for a second time instantly after reading the last word from the first and probably has been read by me around seven times in total). My more recent excursions have taken me through all fifteen Wheel of Time books (rereading early ones in the gaps between releases) taking a total of twelve years between reading the first word of book one to the last of book fourteen (a late prequel accounting for the fifteenth).
In real life, have an intelligent wife, who gives me amazing support and I fully realise her belief in what I do; my biggest fan and harshest critique. She gave me a wonderful son, whom we are enjoying fully. Watching him learn about the world is distinctly fascinating. He is massively into space and has an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of the solar system.
Prior to writing, my creativity was expressed through the bass guitar. Learning from DVDs of Victor Wooten, Stanley Clark and the almighty Geddy Lee, I played studiously from the age of fifteen and, although time does not permit very often, I still get to enjoy it from time to time. I have been lucky enough to gig with a few bands, the most notable being Pistola Kicks and Dirty Thrills.
I was once told that the only thing that no-one can take from you is your knowledge. I try to make the most of that fact and I indulge myself in the world of science, particularly chemistry and physics; subjects that I find fascinating. I am also keenly interested in languages, whether that is English or foreign (to me) languages. I decided to learn Arabic on the basis that I love a challenge and a challenge it certainly it is for me, but it is very rewarding to speak with people from other cultures and learn new insights from them.
I would love to connect with my readers, so please join me via one of the channels below
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Carrie’s Waffle House
Lost in Florida without a visa, a family or a purpose, Paul is ready to tread down any new paths that open up before him. An infatuation with an intriguing and beautiful waitress at Carrie's Waffle House provides such an avenue.
Paul tells us his story of how his entanglement in her family's revenge against the government takes him on a wild adventure of sex, drugs and terrorism revolution. His powerful and passionate relationship with the woman provide him the lust for life he lacked before she stumbled - stoned - into his world, but fails to tear them both from the violence and destruction that burns at her heart.
“The heat of her soul reignited mine. My soul, a soul long cold, bored and unforgiving, realised the light of the world in hers. I couldn't pull myself away for her gravity was too strong. I felt that forever I would be chasing her like a moth to the kaleidoscopic light of her radiance. The beats of my wings pushing me up and pulling me down and no matter how hot it got, I would always want to be hotter, be closer. I wanted our souls to collide, like two atoms being smashed together in fusion, like two galaxies drawn in towards each other ever so slowly amalgamating; I wanted it to take fractions of a fraction of a second and I wanted it to take until the end of time.”
Coming soon.
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Table of Contents
Connive
Prologue
Alive
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Strive
Chapter 18 - Day 1
Chapter 19
Chapter 20 - Day 2
Chapter 21
Chapter 22 - Day 3
Chapter 23 - Day 4
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26 - Day 5
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29 - Day 6
Chapter 30 - Day 7
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33 - Day 8
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36 - Day 9
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Deprive
Chapter 43 - Day 10
Chapter 44
Chapter 45 - Day 11
Chapter 46
Chapter 47 - Day 12
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50 – Day 13
Chapter 51
Chapter 52 – Day 14
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
About James M Hopkins
Carrie’s Waffle House
Ousted: A thrilling debut novel of survival and humanity Page 30