Tom Bomdrill had dealt with the joke all his life. "Tom Bombadil" he was called since grade school, after the name of the character in 'Lord of the Rings'. Tom embraced the nick-name, even running his life round the strange stanza'd poem. But forty years of marriage can change a man. Even a normal man like Tom Bomdrill. One August day, taking one barb too many from his wife, in a moment of passioned rage, he murders her. For days he sat with the body in the bedroom, haunted by the sight of his dead wife, and the echoes of JRR Tolkein's poetry in his head. Wrapped up in his own guilt, he does not see any of the strangeness around him. He decides to walk to the local police station and report the crime, but the simple act does not go exactly to plan..... When the police can't find a body, something is wrong with the world somehow.
I am Scottish, born in Edinburgh, and spent the first 41 years of my life not far from my fair and bonnie "Athens of the North". I now live in Topeka, Kansas with my wife (bless her), no pets (don't like 'em), no children (all moved out), and with many gallons of home-made wine bubbling as I write.
I love to write, and enjoy literary challenges of all kinds. I'm not confined by genres, having equal success in Historical adventure, Sci Fi, Fantasy, Horror and hard hitting gritty crime.
I watch far too much football (Don't even think of calling it 'soccer'.) and at times chase a dimpled ball along carefully manicured countryside, with a collection of calibrated, graphite-shafted sticks. I play guitar and sing in a folk/rock band, and would love to have enough money to tour the world's archeological sites until I'm too old to walk.read more