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The Custodian: Circle of Sorrows
The Custodian: Circle of Sorrows
The Custodian: Circle of Sorrows
Ebook186 pages2 hours

The Custodian: Circle of Sorrows

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One socially inept man lost in the past and looking for love.

One nameless lady ghost lost in the present and

trapped inside his new home.

One shared connection neither understand:

until it's too late.

Will either break the circle of sorrows?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 31, 2018
ISBN9781949809053
The Custodian: Circle of Sorrows
Author

C A Middleton

Me? I am just a loony Yorkshire dude, proud father, and Pop-pop, with many voices in my skull screaming for time on a page. To paraphrase the words of Jim Morrison, I have lived a life you could make a movie on. I've worked as a chef, drilled for oil in the raging North Sea, and worked in tv and film. However, I did have to decline work as an escort some years back. No judgement. Just not me. True story. These days, I'm a gym rat in between trying to find homes for three other books I've scribbled. When your cholesterol's eleven, you have little choice than to dump that lazy life in order pick things up and put them back down again and again...

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    Book preview

    The Custodian - C A Middleton

    Chapter Five

    FlowerOrna4

    The burnt orange and crimson glow of a summer’s evening illuminated the darkening sky around Michael’s parents’ stone terraced house as he pulled up in his little white Ford Fiesta.

    He had put up little in the way of an internal fight to avoid going straight home after the solicitors. Instead, heavy-headed, Michael took a considerable detour over the flat, barren moorland of Blubberhouses. He earlier intended to drive towards the giant golf balls of the nearby American spy base. Their intergalactic appearance usually thrilled his imagination. Although even with the warm, floral country air flowing through the open windows, as Michael zigzagged along the A59, he still felt hollow inside. He pulled into a narrow carpark by the side of twinkling Swinsty Reservoir around teatime. The shimmering ripples of the reservoir and the canoeists paddling to and fro soon lulled his throbbing mind. In a dreamlike state, Michael imagined himself leaving the car keys on the driver’s seat and walking out into the deep, but suspected the canoeists might save him before the water filled his lungs. Therefore, with a dry mouth and breathing heavy, he spun the car on the loose gravel and sped on home.

    The smoky-sweet aroma of barbequed meat and the sound of far-off laughter met Michael on arrival. The glorious summer scene spread out in front of him would, in days past, direct the hopeful poet in his mind to fanciful wanderings. That night, however, it did nothing but make him feel as though a freezing tap dripped with creeping menace into his stomach. The chill soon shot into his chest and rushed his legs up the rickety path. As he fumbled to open the door, struggling for breath, Michael’s ears prepared to hear the welcome sound of his mother’s shrill voice on entry. Nevertheless, the house sat

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