Miss Columbine’s life changed the day she met a man called Harley Quin.

He was tall, dark, handsome and imposing. And he found the synergy between their names amusing enough to sweep her off her feet and wine and dine her. 

When they had progressed to coffee and superlative brandy she dimpled.

“Has the joke worn off yet?”

He looked at her vivid little face and smiled.

“Some time ago. But I’m still intrigued. Shall we see where this goes?”

“Not tonight.”

She left.

He wooed her throughout the winter.

On a bright spring morning, Miss Columbine married Harley Quin.

©️jj 2019

It was a real shame that the company who had accepted the contract on Leo’s life already had a team of two men in Devon who were sure they could rub out a bloke who drew dogs for a living on the way back to headquarters. Sitting astride a Triumph Speed Triple in the village street, they were a little bit put out by the level of security at the house, but cheered up when they saw their target, and another man, bowl out of the drive in a bright red Morgan Roadster.
‘Easy enough to follow.’
‘Yeah, and I got the Glock with me.’
‘Shall we then?’
‘Yeah. Don’t look like it’ll be too difficult.’
‘Need to do it quiet. Don’t want to be dodging the filth all the way back home.’
‘Yeah. Gotta find a nice isolated stretch of country road.’
They followed the red car at a discreet distance, only closing up a little when they reached the A38.

In the Morgan, Clay shifted uneasily. ‘We seem’ he said tautly ‘to have picked up a tail.’
‘Yellow Speed Triple?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Not precisely discreet, is it?’
‘Oh. I dunno. Around seventy per cent of people don’t see motorcycles at all. And of those that do it’s only aficionados who would recognise the make and model.’
‘True. So what do we do? I don’t reckon we’ll easily lose him. And I’m not sure I want to.’
‘Come again?’
‘This wants dealing with. Here and now. How ruthless are you?’
‘That’ Clay announced with some dignity ‘is my line. But since you are asking, I’m up for whatever. Although they will have a gun.’
‘I rather assumed that. A fast bike is ideal for a drive by.’
‘You are a cool customer ain’t you?’
‘My wife’s phrase is ‘hard bastard’. Now fish around in the glovebox in front of you. There’s a paintball pistol in there and it needs loading.’
Clay found the pistol and the paintballs. ‘Any particular colour?’ he asked facetiously.
‘How about red?’

Leo changed down and upped his speed to just shy of a hundred.
‘We’re about to turn off.’
‘Into the forest?’
‘Yep. I know it like the back of my hand. If those buggers come in after us you can be pretty sure they don’t. You’ll need to hold on tight for the first five minutes or so, because we can’t afford for them to come level with us until we’re further in.’

The red car swung off the dual carriageway onto what was little more than a single track. Leo gunned the engine and the Morgan sprang forward. He wrestled the car around a series of tight bends and kept the accelerator floored as they hit a long straight.
‘They coming?’
‘Yeah. But the twisty bit is holding them up.’
‘Good. We need to be around the next hairpin and climbing the hill before they catch us.’

The motorcycle was gaining on them, but not quickly enough, and the Morgan made it around a tight hairpin bend with about two layers of paint to spare. Then it turned sharp left up a steep drag.
‘Christ Johnson, that was fucking close. I hope you know what you are doing.’
‘Me too. Get your gun ready. I’m going to slow enough for them to get alongside us. Try for the driver’s visor.’

The Morgan slowed its impetuous rate and Clay watched the Triumph getting bigger and bigger in the mirror. It pulled alongside and he could see the business end of a big pistol. Leo touched the throttle and the Morgan surged forwards. Clay discharged two balls of red paint and had the satisfaction of seeing them burst across the visor of the driver’s helmet.

He was later to swear that the next fifteen seconds took place in slow motion. Leo took his foot off the gas and the Morgan dropped behind the struggling motorbike just as they reached the apex of the hill. With another deft touch of the throttle the front wing of the Morgan just touched the leg of the pillion passenger, ensuring that the bike went straight on. The road didn’t. Leo wrestled the sports car almost ninety degrees to the right before stopping the engine and resting his forehead against the steering wheel.
‘Fuck it. That was close. I nearly scratched the paintwork.’

From Shall We Gather At The River by Jane Jago

The mirror was a birthday present from Bella’s husband, and her reflection in its greenish depths pleased her. Some puckish impulse drew her to blow a kiss. 

The reflected face touched its cheek and smiled. 

Bella shook her head in disbelief, even as the woman in the mirror continued braiding her green-gold hair. 

As she watched, the surface of the mirror seemed to become fluid, and a delicate hand reached outwards.

Half mesmerised, Bella leaned forward and all but fell into the eyes that watched her. She awoke screaming, with blood dripping from a gouge in her white cheek.

©️jj 2019

“I hope you slept well.”
“Thank you. I slept very well indeed.”
She seemed to feel embarrassed by his presence and turned to leave, but his words called her back. “You have been more than generous to us, Lady. I will not forget your kindness.”
Her eyes darkened.
“It is not I but my husband who has shown you that kindness.”
“But it is you who have tended to our needs, lady, he but asked you to do so. My gratitude is therefore to you.”
A flush of colour flamed her face and she looked quickly away from him.
“Save your gratitude,” she said and her voice was suddenly bitter. “What I have done, I have done for my husband and may the gods forgive me for loving him too well.”
In two strides he was beside her.
“What do you mean by that?”
She did not answer him and tried to leave, but he held her elbow and turned her face to him.
“Let me go, you are hurting my arm,” she said in a low voice, sounding frightened, her eyes on the verge of flooding with tears.
“I mean you no harm, Lady,” Jariq assured her. “But you speak as if you would not have us willingly here.”
She looked up at him sharply.
“Willingly?” she echoed, incredulous. “No, I do not willingly entertain the murderer of innocent children. I don’t know what you are doing here and I don’t care. But don’t worry your secret is safe, I shall not betray you, I love my husband too well for that.”
For some reason the familiar accusation coming from her cut Jariq deeply.
“Never fear, Lady,” he returned coldly, “I am not in the habit of repaying hospitality with bloodshed. You are quite safe and will be pleased to learn that you will not have to put up with my presence in your house for much longer. If you would have a meal prepared, we shall take our leave as soon as we have eaten.”
He released her arm and she turned quickly away and almost ran from the room, her breath catching on a choking sob as she fled. Jariq’s mood was broken and his face was grim as he went in search of Durban. A house-slave informed him that the gentleman was in the kitchens and as he was making his way there Durban emerged from the courtyard wreathed in a cheerful smile.
“Did the lady of the house reject your advances?” The amber eyes were alight with mischief. “Don’t tell me the famous charm hasn’t worked for once, that one fair flower of Temsevar is immune to your appeal?”
Jariq was not in the mood for Durban’s humour.
“The lady of the house is of no interest to me, and, as I understand, it objects virulently to harbouring a mass murderer under her roof.”
Durban grinned.
“Alas, you are defeated by your own legend – perhaps you should give up slaughtering innocents before it ruins your love life completely.”
“I think,” Jariq returned, containing his rising temper with difficulty, “that there are more important things for us to discuss before we leave.”
If Durban noticed the harsh edge to his tone, he gave no sign of it. Instead still smiling he linked his arm in Jariq’s and started leading him towards the great parlour.
“Of course,” he said brightly. “We must have a serious discussion and where better than here with the comforts of home close at hand: food, wine -” he glanced up with arching eyebrows “and women.”
Jariq pulled his arm away.
“Death of the Gods, Durban, don’t you ever give up?”
“Not whilst there is breath in my body and the pleasure of watching you rise like a fish to the bait.” The amber eyes mocked him. “You really must learn not to be so sensitive. Just because some woman calls you names, this is no reason to sulk like a spoilt child.”
Jariq felt his tolerance slipping.
“Leave it,” he snarled. But Durban showed no sign of having heard him, he opened the door to the guest parlour and went in, dropping with a contented sigh onto a cushioned couch.
“Ah, the simple joys of life. You take things too much to heart and life is too short for that.” Durban reached out for a delicate crystal goblet and filled it with dark wine from an inlaid jug. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

From Transgressor: The Fated Sky volume one of Fortune’s Fools by E.M. Swift-Hook

The unblinking eyes of the chessmen stared at her as she figured out her next move, while the man opposite leaned back in his chair the picture of cocksureness.
What had started as a joke suddenly became serious.
This asshat deserved beating and she was gonna do it if I killed her. Switching off her emotions, she put the cool mathematical side of her brain to work calculating the odds as she made each move.
At first he didn’t notice, but then he stared playing fast and reckless.
She smiled coolly, as she tipped over his king.
“Checkmate,” she said.

©️jj 2019

Hyos: the Sleep Machine by Jane Last.  Man thinks that he is shaping the planet, but little does he realize that the planet is shaping him.

Year: 9,000-9,600 Hyos Time Scale (HTS)

Location: Planet of Hyos

Hyos was intensively studied as from year 8,500 HTS, when the first scientific expeditions landed on the planet. The next hundred years were followed by many subsequent expeditions, and even permanent settlements by various research teams. There were many interesting features on Hyos that kept the scientists busy for a long time. It was a time when vast amounts of money were readily available for planetary exploration, and scientists had unlimited funds at their disposal. Authorities on Earth had channeled enormous resources for space exploration, planet discovery and identification of suitable planets for the establishment of human colonies. On every newly discovered planet, research work was ongoing to optimize its environmental conditions for its potential colonization.
The atmosphere of Hyos was similar, though not identical to Earth’s. In addition to oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide and water vapor that human beings were used to, its atmosphere contained sulfur dioxide, hydrogen, methane, several acidic gases, ash and dust in various proportions. The gas mixture was dependent on one’s location and proximity to volcanic sites as the ongoing volcanic activity emitted large quantities of carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide and hydrogen as well as heat. The planet’s climate was hot and stormy with strong dusty winds and occasional light rainfall for one hundred and ninety days. Similarly, it was very cold and dry for the same length of time depending on which of the twin stars was closest to it. On any day, the sky looked yellow with an orange tinge and the twin suns were clearly visible during day-time. The sky color changed to bright red at sunrise and sunset, which lasted for a long time to allow both suns to rise and set.
Although the planetary mass of Hyos was greater than that of Earth, surprisingly its gravity matched Earth’s exactly, and the first men who arrived on the planet immediately felt at home. One would logically have expected that the gravity on Hyos would be greater on account of its larger mass, so this was an unusual finding. Scientists had a rational explanation for this. Surface gravity was a function of both mass and radius and they compensated for each other. Moreover, the physical composition of the planet and that of the atmosphere also had an effect on the surface gravity of Hyos making it similar to Earth’s gravity.

A Bite of... Jane Last

Q1: How much of what you write could be classed as therapy? 

I started writing at a difficult time in my life. I had not previously thought of myself as a writer at all. In fact I am used to writing scientific publications, research proposals and dissertations. I read a lot of a variety of books and I guess that I think a lot. I had been vaguely thinking of writing fiction for some years and then one day I had a dream. It was so vivid that I started writing it down. It became the basis of the story Hyos, The Sleep Machine. Maybe it was a therapeutic release.

Q2: Chocolate cake or coffee cake? And give reasons 

I love chocolate cake. It’s rich and dark and comforting and so-self-indulgent. I feel I deserve chocolate cake regularly. It’s so important to have something that makes one happy.
I believe in happiness as an objective in life. So many people spend so much time depriving themselves of simple things that would make them happy as they are pursuing something else.
They deprive themselves of sleep, quality time, family life, simple comforts, calorie-rich foods and so many things that are within reach for something that may be unattainable.
Chocolate cake makes me happy. It is therapeutic. I have it for breakfast regularly.

Q3: How much of your writing is autobiographical? 

My writing is not at all autobiographical but I think a lot of my beliefs and philosophy are reflected in my writing. For example my book Hyos, The Sleep Machine is about a society adapting to underground living in a volcanic planet and to an outbreak of mental illness that they cannot understand, but at its essence, it’s a story about choices that we make in life and the human need to make choices. It’s about freedom. 

Jane Last is a free thinker who likes writing original stories. She is herself an avid reader interested in history, politics, society, literature, art, statistics and science-fiction. If she is not reading, she is watching the latest films. She has a scientific background and is especially interested in human physiology and brain function and how humans will adapt in the future. You can connect with her on Twitter.

It was just a bowl of chips, glistening with sea salt and sprinkled with herbs. Christabel could feel Malcolm daring her to touch even one.

She was tempted to obey him as usual. But she had had two glasses of wine so she took a delicious forbidden treat. 

“I thought we agreed no fries.”

His pseudo-transatlantic accent grated on her overstretched nerves.

“I agreed nothing.” She took another chip and bit in.

“We’ll discuss this later.”

“Oh. Find somebody else to discuss calories with.”

He threw down his napkin and stormed out. 

She smiled and took another fattening chip.

©️jj 2019

The women were coated and booted and out of the door almost before Anna finished speaking.
“So. What do we have to do about bedrooms? It isn’t hoovering, is it?” Jim asked with some unease.
“Nah. We just have to make some beds and put towels in some bathrooms. After which, I suggest dragging the hounds out for a tramp in the rain.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Is. I’ll phone Anna just before we set out in case there are further orders.”
Jim grinned.
“Good thinking. Let’s keep those girls sweet. One angry is bad news, but on the rare occasion I’ve managed to piss both of them off together I’ve been very, very sorry.”
“I’ll bet,” Sam concurred with some feeling. “Anna only has to give me that single raised eyebrow and all my manly courage deserts me.”
“So. Let’s do our duties then. Do we know which rooms?’
“Yeah. We’ll stick them all in the annexe. Then Rod can keep an eye on the boys.”
“He’s used to that. He bloody well invited himself anyway, so we should put him in the shed.”
“Nah. He might touch my lathe.”
Jim roared with laughter, then said.
“You got a lathe? I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted to learn wood turning.”
“Stick with me. I’ll gladly teach you all I know. I’ve got some holly wood and I’ve been making bowls for Anna, but she don’t know yet. I’ll show you later.”
Jim grinned like a schoolboy.
“I’d like that if you’re serious.”
“Oh yeah. I’m serious.”

They cleared up the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher before making beds and folding towels. Then Sam called Anna, and was graciously given permission to take the dogs out – but warned to be back by twelve-thirty if he wanted lunch.
“Will do ma’am.”
He ended the call before she could singe his ears for cheek.
“C’mon Jim. If they are calling twelve-thirty lunch, I reckon they are expecting to be back here about noon. So. If we are back here by quarter to we can gain many, many points by unloading the shopping.”
“You crafty brown-nosing bastard! I’m impressed. Let’s get to it.”
They frogmarched the dogs around a brisk couple of miles and were home with coffee on and dogs wiped before the Range Rover rolled onto the drive.
“You do the cappuccinos. I’ll start unloading,” Jim grinned and sprinted out.  The girls came in dripping and giggling, and Sam took their coats before presenting each with a foaming coffee.
“Mmm. You certainly know how to make a girl feel welcome,” Patsy grinned and took a restorative sip.
Sam bowed, and sprinted off to help Jim with the groceries.
“What are those two up to?”
“Oh. It’ll be Sam. He’s an expert at acquiring brownie points. It’s a kind of a game we play. Why?”
“Just wondered if the buggers had been up to no good. Which is unfair. Comes of being the mother of five boys – at least one of whom will be up to no good at any given time.”
The men staggered in laden.
“You weren’t joking about a big shop. Do I need to crawl to the bank manager for a bridging loan?”
“No,” Jim interspersed “you’re okay. We’ll sell one of the brats.”
Then they charged out into the rain again.
“They are having fun together,” Patsy remarked ruminatively. “Which makes Sam the first non-Cracksman Jim has seen fit to befriend. Part of it will be because he’s yours, but it seems to me like they actually like each other. Which is amazing. And very nice.”
“Is. But we have a mountain of groceries to put away. Or I do. Can you get a pan of quick bread dough going for pizzas?”
“Can do. Point me at the ingredients.”

So it was that the kitchen was serene and the four of them were settling down to loaded pizzas not much after the stated twelve-thirty. After a few moments of concentrated greed, Sam spoke.
“Why do I get the feeling you think I’m mad inviting your kids here. They’ve been here before with no terrible outcome.”
“True,” Jim said, “but we never had the twins with us.”
“No,” Sam agreed “you didn’t. But do you reckon they are likely to be troublesome?”
“About bound to,” Anna said wryly. “Matt and Cy have to try their boundaries. And now you are family they won’t hold back.”
“She’s right,” Jim’s grin was half proud and half wary. “Any trouble. Belt ’em.”
Patsy agreed firmly. “Yeah. But if you do, make sure it smarts a bit.”
“Right got that. Two supplementaries. The twins. You almost always seem to refer to them as that, rather than Matt and Cy. I wondered why? Plus. Jamie is invited to Daniel and Paul’s wedding, but not the rest of the tribe?”
“Last first,” Jim grinned. “Daniel is Jamie’s sponsor. Like Rod and Bill.”
“OK. I get that.”
Patsy smiled at him.
“The Twins. That’s a bit more complicated. One: they only answer to their given names to me, their dad, and their grandmothers, but if you yell ‘twins’ they generally tip up. If they ain’t too busy. Two: they are currently joined at the hip – though that may change when sex rears its ugly head – so it’s difficult not to think of them as a single entity. Three: it’s easy and they prefer it. So. You can call them what you like, really. Jim’s Dad calls them ‘that pair of fuckers’, which they like a lot. Take it as a compliment. Grandpa Cracksman calls them ‘Solomon and David’ which makes them just about piss themselves. And  Anna….”
“Calls them Dickhead and Shitface, if memory serves.”
She went very pink.
“I might have known you’d remember that.”

Jane Jago

As the sun dipped below the horizon the hunted woman slipped into the forest. Her pursuers kicked their mounts into a triumphant gallop. Stopping at the very edge of the trees they waited for the malevolent entities that ruled the woodland to spit her out.

When her bare feet touched ancient loam their quarry felt hostility, but when the wildwood came to know what it harboured the warmth of welcome spread from her toes to her head.  

She made the change, and turned her saurian eye on the waiting hunters.

The queen dragon roared and the men scattered like chaff.

©️jj 2019

My muse today is on the lash
And talking proper tripe
He’s on the rum without a splash
And seriously ripe
He filled my chapter nine with c**p
And vomited some verse
He’s really riding for a slap
Or something rather worse
My muse is one who rides his luck
As bad as he can be
Why is my muse a useless *BLEEP*?
Maybe because he’s me…

©jj 2019