Bruthcombe is available for £1.99 on Amazon (click here).
The following extracts are from Bruthcombe, Joshua Perrett’s debut short story collection featuring ‘Bruthcombe Beach’, ‘Smithy’, ‘Take Me to Yours’, ‘The C15’, and ‘Lacey goes to Acidea’.
Excerpts for the latter two are not present as I didn’t want to spoil the book. So you best go out and get it if you want to read more 😉 (See bottom of post for purchasing info.)
Richard and his mother at the merry-go-round on Bruthcombe Pleasure Pier:
He sat her on Pegasus, her childhood pleasure accomplice. Then he took the controls and brought the ride into motion. The horses bobbed like buoys and Richard felt happy; pleased that his mother had returned to the seaside bliss they cherished in his infancy. As the revolutions sped, Sally’s grip loosened, and as Pegasus galloped to the far side of the central pillar, she fell onto the ride’s floor, then out onto the concrete. Her skirt tore and leg flesh came off on impact, leaving rotten bone and tissue where blood would have bled. Richard rushed out to find the stricken jockey. She was on the floor. Lifeless.
Janey and Sara discuss what to do with a dead cat’s body:
Quinsy lay on the driveway. His rib cage was crushed and tufts of fur were stuck to the bloodied tarmac like gauze on a wound. They picked the rubber from the flesh, shoveled the bits into the bag, then carried it through next-door’s house and dumped it on the back lawn.
‘Right. What have we got?’ Janey said, scouring the garden for cat-killing equipment.
‘Erm, no, not the pond. Not unless we make it look like he was savaged by a shoal of rogue carp.’
‘Nah. It’s got to look realistic.’
‘Jeez, what about that tree? He would’ve been there watching birds and stuff, right?’
‘Yeah, but he wouldn’t be in pieces if he fell out. What about the shredder beneath? He could’ve been climbing the tree, like chasing something, fallen off a branch, and landed into the shredder. Gudder, gudder, gudder. Splat.’
Take Me to Yours
Colin introduces Vince to his pets:
A dog’s bark came from inside, growing louder as the key turned in the lock. A golden retriever bounded up the hallway, put its front paws around Colin’s shoulders and licked his face.
“This is Sally,” Colin said.
“Aw, she’s cute,” Vince said as he tickled her side.
Sally got down and ran into the kitchen as a cat ambled in, its undercarriage swinging from side to side.
Vince shot the cat in the head. Blood, brain and bone flew across the hallway and splattered the walls and carpet.
“I’m not a cat person,” Vince said as he reloaded his pistol. “Shall we stick the telly on?”