A Weekend At Stanley's

By Simon E Bond

Stan is an OAP living on his own, life is passing him by at a steady pace every day. He is awoken one night by an intruder. Stan takes him hostage, locking him in the cellar for his punishment.

Unaware to Stan there is chaos happening outside and in most areas of the UK; an alien visitation has descended on the mainland. The authorities seem helpless to deal with the situation; Stan on the other hand does not notice any difference. His mind trapped in happy times of days gone by is he really ready for a change in the world?

Will Stan finish off the hostage he has taken in or venture outside to the dangers lurking with little knowledge that anyone will even notice.........

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon E Bond
• Release date: May 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311887283

Simon E Bond

I am a first time author and a father to five children, two of which are twin boys. I love science fiction also horror as well, Star Wars is a great favourite of mine i am a massive fan. There will be more books coming in the very near future, and i would really love your feedback on them, take care...

Book preview

A Weekend At Stanley’s

Simon E Bond

Copyright © 2014 Simon E Bond

All rights reserved.

ISBN:

I would like to say a big heart warm thanks to my wife Katie, and my lovely five children for giving me confidence in each project.

Stan is an OAP living on his own, life is passing him by at a steady pace every day. He is awoken one night by an intruder. Stan takes him hostage, locking him in the cellar for his punishment.Unaware to Stan there is chaos happening outside and in most areas of the UK; an alien visitation has descended on the mainland. The authorities seem helpless to deal with the situation; Stan on the other hand does not notice any difference. His mind trapped in happy times of days gone by - is he really ready for a change in the world?Will Stan finish off the hostage he has taken in or venture outside to the dangers lurking with little knowledge that anyone will even notice.........

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.

May Sarton

CHAPTER ONE

At eighty, Stanley was in his prime for a pensioner. He was of a small build and his back as strong as an ox for his age. He had never been the same since World War Two, but the army did their job to make him better— he even gained a rack of medals for that time in his life. His house—it was more like a cottage—was quite large and situated in nice rural surroundings in the sticks on the outskirts of Leeds. But living on his own was not so kind to him; losing Mildred many years ago made closing his eyes at night and waking up alone in a double bed every day a tarnish on what was to be his golden years.

Dusting the moth balls from his old anorak and donning his flat cap, he readied himself to grab the paper from his local store so he could study the crossword inside to get his brain ticking over at sunrise.

With his walking stick in hand, Stan set off down the winding road. The traffic was never busy that early so he didn’t anticipate any problems when it came time to cross to the opposite side.

Morning, Steve, said Stan, nodding his head to the local milk man trundling past on his milk float to start his deliveries.

Morning, Stan, busy day ahead? Steve taunted, laughing and waving at him as he passes.

Stan frowned his usual frown, all the wrinkles on his face moving to the front of his forehead.

Cheeky bugger, muttered Stan as he crossed the road into the entrance of the local convenience store.

Adjusting his flat cap again, he pushed the door open and heard the Pring Pring of the door chimes.

He shut the door behind him, the bell above the door fell silent and he adjusted his cap once again in the process.

Morning, Stan; up early as normal, greeted the frail elderly woman behind the counter.

Stan just smiled at her, taking his cap off and revealing his grey hair with the shiny bald patch in the middle of his head. The shop is old in appearance—going back to the fifties at least—with an old fashioned till, wooden shelves all around, and littered with the usual tins of food, fruit and store commodities.

Stan rested his hands on the top of the woodchip counter and the old woman walked over to serve him.

Let me just get my glasses on, dear! she said, reaching for the front of her apron.

Ah, that is better. Hello, Stan. The usual Mirror newspaper then? she asked.

Ay, that's the one, you know me— the one with the good crossword in it, that's what I like, he replied.

The woman, Mavis, shuffled over to the end of the counter where all the newspaper editions were stacked neatly in piles; some with the thin tape still tied around them. Wiping her lips with her index finger if one hand, she pulled a Mirror newspaper from one of the piles with her other hand.

This will be the one, dear? asked Mavis.

Stan looked over, his wrinkles forming again at the end of his frown.

Yes, that is it.

Okay, that will be eighty five pence. Have you got the right change on you today? she asked, not trusting him.

Here you go, Mavis, just the right coins for you, he replied.

He handed over the money to her as footsteps were heard