Humpday Promotions: The Lot on Route 6: Page 14

Kill for me. A terrifying request, but Gavin will take this request and do his best to complete it. He will suffer. He will reach the edge of his sanity. He will live in pain. But he will do all he can do to protect the people and the town he loves.

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086814J42

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B086814J42

AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B086814J42

CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B086814J42

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*About to get gruesome and there is going to be some language.

I don’t write love stories. Just a warning.*

Rusty, a bar whore, one prone to spend time searching for love in all the wrong places, nursed her drink (whiskey straight) slowly and looked around the crowded country bar for a man to spend the night with. It didn’t really matter what kind of guy it was. She just needed someone to fill the need for the night. She was once an attractive woman, shimmering brown hair, sparkling green eyes, with a body that would make most men rethink religion and their wives. But at her current age of forty five she had started to sag and lag in all the wrong ways. She wasn’t aging into ugliness, nothing like that, but the drinking, the casual sex, drugs, and cigarettes, were taking a hard toll on her body and her looks.

“Another one, Rusty,” the bartender asked. He knew her and knew her drinking limits, they were legendary, so he knew it would take a lot for her to reach her limit.

“Slam it,” she replied and knocked back her drink. It went down easy and smooth.

“Not much to work with?” The bartender asked, a college kid, right around twenty, fit and in shape, kind of a stand out in a world filled with bar flies. He had noticed her eyes scanning the room while he poured her another round.

“No. Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign?”

“To clean things up, get back on a new path, quit trying to fuck everything that walks,” she replied, knocking back the drink in one gulp. She pulled out a large wad of bills and paid her tab, leaving a hefty tip.

“That tips too much,” the bartender replied, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. Steak instead of something in the microwave would be a nice change of pace.

“Keep it. You’ve earned it. Consider it an early Christmas present.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Do you need to ask?”

“Part of the procedure. I have to ask even though I know the answer.”

“Yep, right as rain,” she replied and smiled, a smile that made her look years younger.

“Be safe. It’s starting to snow out there.”

“Will do. Thanks,” she replied and made her exit.

Outside, Rusty cinched her coat tight, and looked up into the late afternoon sky. It was a cold and dreary day, bitter winds were tearing through the air, and soft flakes of snow were falling, dusting the ground and the idle cars in the parking lot. She left her stance and hurried over to her truck. She climbed inside, fired up the engine, and turned on classic country music, but classic country wasn’t doing it for her today. She needed something more upbeat, louder, more in tune with the Christmas season. She found a local station playing nothing but Christmas songs. She turned it up loud, hummed along to Jingle Bell Rock, feeling good for the first time in a very long time, thinking that maybe the next year would be a season of change. Maybe pack it all up and head to the coast. Start fresh and start new. Plenty of places needed a waitress and she was sure one of them would hire her. She pulled out of the parking lot and angled her truck towards home. The drive was easy and smooth and about half way home was when she saw the sign for The Lot.

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I recently published this novella or short story, depending on how you look at it, and I wanted to promote it. So, my brain got to thinking, and my brain came up with three ways you can enjoy this story (if you want to read it).

  1. Tune in every Wednesday and read it page by page until it is completed.
  2. Send me an email: atothewr@gmail.com. In the header put: I would love to review The Lot on Route 6. Then let me know what you use to read ebooks: Kindle or Something Else. I will send it to you and all I ask is for you to give me a fair and honest review.
  3. If you are able to buy it and do want to support me the links to purchase the story are posted above.

Thanks again for all the support. I promise Poetry and Haiku as much as I can, but I hope you stick with me each Wednesday as I branch off into something a bit different. And if you missed a page look for the story underneath the Hump Day Promotions category. You are now free to move around the blog.

Humpday Promotions: The Lot on Route 6: Page 12

Kill for me. A terrifying request, but Gavin will take this request and do his best to complete it. He will suffer. He will reach the edge of his sanity. He will live in pain. But he will do all he can do to protect the people and the town he loves.

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086814J42

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B086814J42

AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B086814J42

CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B086814J42

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*About to get gruesome and there is going to be some language.

I don’t write love stories. Just a warning.*

Delilah brought the car to a stop, tires crunching gravel as she did. Inside the small house, Gavin woke up with a stiff neck, covered in a cold sweat. He had been consumed by another nightmare, one of many that had prevented a healthy night’s sleep. When was the last time he had slept peacefully? He didn’t know.

He pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the door. He was thinner now, losing hair, and slowly dying from starvation and dehydration, but he didn’t care. He would finish the task at hand and hopefully die soon after it was done. He peered through the peep hole, eye-balling the two older ladies who were now looking at the trees. They were out of towners. He was sure of it. That was good. The trees hadn’t been fed in a while. He needed to feed them soon before they decided his town was their personal smorgasbord. He picked up the axe and waited for the right moment.

“These are beautiful trees,” Delilah replied, looking at the green pine trees bathed in the soft overhead lights.

“They are, but maybe we should go. Find a place closer to home.”

“Why? These are beautiful trees”

“Something doesn’t feel right here,” Ginny replied.

“You’re a spooky old broad, you know that?”

“And you could never see your ass for the train. I’m telling you something is foul here. I don’t know what it is, but something is wrong.”

Delilah breathed in the air, the sweet smell of pine, the perfect smell of pine, the trees were covered in that delicious scent, and it brought back memories of her childhood at Christmastime. There was no way this place had anything wrong about it. In fact, to prove her point, she crept up to the fence and leaned over it, caressing the soft needles of one of the trees. This tree seemed to respond to her touch, to almost move with her hand as she stroked it.

“See, it’s okay,” Delilah replied.

Ginny refused to step closer, and it was a good thing she didn’t, because the branch Delilah was touching quickly wrapped around her wrist like a snake. And once it had its grip it yanked her over the fence and into the nest of its siblings. The trees converged and greedily devoured her while her sister looked on in shock, shaking her head, mouth hanging open, sucking in the cool night air. She thought of the gun they kept in the car (a just in case for a just in case – both sisters trained to handle the lethal object) and started to make her way towards the vehicle. That’s when Gavin made his move. He hurried out of the house, axe held high, screaming like a mad man, looking like a skeleton with skin hanging off his frame.

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I recently published this novella or short story, depending on how you look at it, and I wanted to promote it. So, my brain got to thinking, and my brain came up with three ways you can enjoy this story (if you want to read it).

  1. Tune in every Wednesday and read it page by page until it is completed.
  2. Send me an email: atothewr@gmail.com. In the header put: I would love to review The Lot on Route 6. Then let me know what you use to read ebooks: Kindle or Something Else. I will send it to you and all I ask is for you to give me a fair and honest review.
  3. If you are able to buy it and do want to support me the links to purchase the story are posted above.

Thanks again for all the support. I promise Poetry and Haiku as much as I can, but I hope you stick with me each Wednesday as I branch off into something a bit different. And if you missed a page look for the story underneath the Hump Day Promotions category. You are now free to move around the blog.

Humpday Promotions: The Lot on Route 6: Page 8

Kill for me. A terrifying request, but Gavin will take this request and do his best to complete it. He will suffer. He will reach the edge of his sanity. He will live in pain. But he will do all he can do to protect the people and the town he loves.

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086814J42

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B086814J42

AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B086814J42

CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B086814J42

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*About to get gruesome. I don’t write love stories. Just a warning.*

Fred Greenberg closed and locked his dorm room door. While he stood in front of it, he sent his parents a quick text saying he would be home soon and then slowly made his way down the long white hallway with the fluorescent lights shining bright above. Fred wasn’t a tall kid. He stood somewhere around five foot five. And he wasn’t extremely handsome either, but he did alright with the ladies. He was just an average college kid with black hair and piercing green eyes.

“Heading home?” A voice asked from an open door.

“Yeah,” Fred replied, stopping to talk for a moment. Above him, a banner read Happy Thanksgiving with a big smiling turkey on it. Of course, someone had taken the time to draw a penis the size of a watermelon on the bird. College kids. Always up for a cheap laugh.

“Well, drive safe. Don’t smoke too much weed while you’re gone.”

“Just a Thanksgiving dinner with the folks. Add in a bit of football and a deep turkey nap and that’s about all there’s going to be. Have a good holiday,” Fred replied and made his exit.

When he reached his truck, he climbed inside, turned on the engine, and let it idle. He scrolled through his phone until he found Black Map (a new band who had recently caught his interest). Once the Bluetooth connection was made and the music playing through the speakers, he backed out of the spot, and made his way towards home.

Two hours into the drive is when Fred saw Gavin’s hand-made sign. On a whim, he angled the four wheel drive off the paved road and onto the one made of dirt, tire ruts, and grass. A few minutes later, he pulled his truck to a stop and looked out the window at the Christmas tree lot sitting all alone in the middle of nowhere. The trees were thick, rich, and green. They looked healthy and plump, full of life and vigor.

Inside the gingerbread house, Gavin woke up when he heard the truck brakes squeal. He glanced at the clock on the bare wall. It was just past three in the afternoon. He stood up and peered through the peep hole he had made in the door, eye-balling the young man behind the wheel of the truck. Gavin was sure the kid behind the wheel was an out of towner. So far so good. Nobody in town had decided to venture out except for the sheriff, who hadn’t been by since the first time he had visited. Gavin hoped it would stay that way, and that the locals would stay put. A rustling sound invaded his ears and he turned his eye to the trees.

Were they telling him they were hungry?

Were they telling him they needed to be fed?

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I recently published this novella or short story, depending on how you look at it, and I wanted to promote it. So, my brain got to thinking, and my brain came up with three ways you can enjoy this story (if you want to read it).

  1. Tune in every Wednesday and read it page by page until it is completed.
  2. Send me an email: atothewr@gmail.com. In the header put: I would love to review it. Then let me know what you use to read ebooks: Kindle or Something Else. I will send it to you and all I ask is for you to give me a fair and honest review.
  3. If you are able to buy it and do want to support me the links to purchase the story are posted above.

Thanks again for all the support. I promise Poetry and Haiku as much as I can, but I hope you stick with me each Wednesday as I branch off into something a bit different. And if you missed a page look for the story underneath the Hump Day Promotions category. You are now free to move around the blog.

Wednesday’s Quotes has Moved.

If you have enjoyed reading Wednesday’s Quotes on this blog they now have a new home: Short Tales from the Blog. They are a better fit over there than here. I am really trying to get this blog back to its poetry roots. So, now I have Haiku Horizons prompts for Monday and Fear Filled Fridays horror Haiku and Poetry on Fridays. Two scheduled posts each week for you to peruse and enjoy. Don’t worry though. I do still plan to post randomly throughout the week whenever the mood hits me. Thanks for following. You are now free to move about the blog.

Haiku – Early Morning Re-Write and A Quick Sneek Peek at Hellfire and Brimstone

Warming up the eyes

Brain wakes up from deep slumber

Creating time starts

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Here’s another quick peek at what I have been re-writing. Again, this is raw data, and it still needs a spell check, another read through, and possibly more changes. However, I thought you might find it interesting to read.

So, here’s a bit of Hellfire and Brimstone (title may change at a later date):

“What did you find?”

Eric was ready to be done with Tom, and Tom decided to feel the same way. Skeptics will always be skeptics even when they come face to face with the truth, which Tom was about to show him. He grabbed his camera and hooked it up to the TV.  He took the tape currently in the unit out and put in the one he had when he did his first walk-through.  He rewound the tape and sat down beside Eric.

“I caught a few things as I did my first walk around the house.  Some things are probably easily explained once I look at it further, but just to give you some idea I will show you what I found.” Tom began going through the tape.  He stopped at one point. “This is when I was walking through the upstairs hall.  You will see back towards the end of it something white, with a strange form, move out of view.  You have to look quick, but it is there.” Tom played the tape and smiled inside when he saw Eric’s eyes light up with fear.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know. Could have been a passing car, could have been a trick of the camera, it could have been anything, but I think we both know what it really was. ” Tom moved the tape forward.  He was now in the master bedroom, scanning the room.  A dark shape appears as he scans. Tom spins the camera back to the spot where he saw it, but it’s too late.  The shape is gone.  A noise behind him and then beside him, on top of him.  Tom turns, spins, and tries to catch the activity, but nothing appears on the camera. All he catches are noises. “That went on for like four minutes and then stopped.  Noises all around the room, but nothing revealed itself after I saw the shape.”

“I see why you drink.  So, nothing with the devil, right?”

Tom looked at him. “What?”

Feel free to let me know what you thought about it? Would you like to see more of this story in the future?

Haiku – Treadmilling It

It’s too cold outside

Just rubber meeting rubber

As the world goes by

I figured since I was talking about the treadmill.  I would sell out and offer up a short story of mine about a killer treadmill.  Some of you may have read it, some may not.

There are two ways to get it.  

The first way is the pay way.  If you would like to read it on Kindle for 99 cents along with another short story of mine, click the book image below.  It will take you right to it.  I would love a review if anyone has the time.

2 Short Stories

The second way is the free way.  Just drop your eyes below to read it.  

Whichever way you choose.  I hope you enjoy it.

So applause, applause.  The curtain is lifting.  Now begins the story called Twenty Dollars.  

Beginning

The web page flickered across Bob’s face as he stared at the ad.  He couldn’t believe it, a great top of the line treadmill for only twenty dollars.  He reached down and pinched the gigantic roll of fat around his waist.

“You my friend have to go.”  He ran his hand through his middle aged hair then picked up the phone and dialed the number on the screen.

No answer.

He held on a moment longer and just as he was about to hang up.  Someone picked up.  It was an old sounding voice; no not old, creaky was the word I was looking for.  It had the feel and sound of one of those old doors that would swing open in a scary house.  You know the kind, the doors that need some oil.  The ones that make the goose bumps rise.  Bob didn’t know how a voice could sound like that, but it did.

“I’m calling about the treadmill.”  He was nervous and he didn’t know why, but twenty bucks what a steal.

“The one I posted online.”  Screech went the voice.

“That’s the one.”

“Do you have twenty dollars?”

“I do.”

“Is it in your hands?”

“No.”

“Can it be in your hands?”

“Yes, I guess.  I need to get my wallet.”

“Get it.”

“Hold on.”  Bob went down and got his wallet.  He picked up the phone.  “It’s in my hand.”

“Thank you for doing business with me.  You will find your treadmill in the garage.”

Bob paused for a moment.  “Wait, how do you know I have a garage?”  The phone line went dead as the money evaporated from his hand.  A second later Bob heard a large bang in the garage.  Something had just crash landed on the floor.

He put the phone back in its cradle and went out to investigate.

With a cautious ease he opened the door and flipped on the light.

In the corner where he wanted to put the treadmill, there it sat, gleaming in a pool of light, all shiny and new.

Bob looked around the room and then went down the two sets of concrete steps to the floor.

He stopped and paused.

He looked around.

“Impossible.  This has to be some kind of joke.”

Bob watched as the plug lifted off the ground and pushed itself into the electric outlet.  The machine came to life, causing Bob to jump back so hard, that he fell right on his fat flabby butt.

“Get on, take a spin.”  The machine said as Bob looked up at it.  “I’ll make you thin, girls you will win.”

“Not much of a rhyme.”

As caution goes in the human mind, anybody else would have run screaming for the hills the minute the treadmill appeared in the garage.  Bob was however, cheap, very cheap, so the cost of buying it far outweighed the caution he should have had at this moment.

Bob got up off the floor and dusted off.  He looked down at himself as his outfit evaporated and in its place was a shiny new set of clothes.  Wick away shirt, keeps you cool and dry.  Running pants that fit much like swimming trunks, net in the middle to hold your junk in place.  Moisture control socks and a perfectly fitting pair of running shoes.  To top it off, a head band had decided to rest itself atop Bob’s head.  He was now suited up and ready to go.

Again, I can’t speak high enough about caution in this situation.  Why would a human being in a situation like this even dream of getting on that tread mill?

Bob walked over to it, feeling the soft spring in his new running shoes.  He looked down at them, blue and green with funky zig zag markings.

“That’s it Bob, step up, don’t hide, loose the gut, take your stride.”

Caution, hello, caution!  I don’t care how cheap you are.  If a machine appears in your garage and then starts talking to you in rhyme, maybe you should take some warning from that.

The belt began to move and Bob watched it for a moment or two.

He could see the screen clicking off miles, .01, .02, .03 . . .

I can’t believe he did this, but Bob climbed on.

Middle

“It was easy.  I could do this all night.”  That was Bob’s first thoughts.  This was a nice gentle walk compared to what he thought it would be.

“Let’s go a little faster.”  The belt underneath his feet picked up some speed.  Bob watched as the mileage thing jumped from 1 mile to 10 miles.

“Hey buddy.  I think your mileage thing is out of whack!”  Bob was trying to stay with the current speed, but he was starting to struggle.  A pain ran up his side, across his heart, and down his left arm.  That machine picked up on it.

“I’ll slow it down a bit.  I can tell by your breath that you are really struggling.  Too many doughnuts and beer does not make a heart healthy I hear.”  The machine chuckled, an evil chuckle.  Bob for the first time kind of got spooked.  Twenty dollars or no twenty dollars this may not have been such a good idea.

Bob reached out for the rails.  He needed to hold on to something for a moment or two so he could catch his breath and walk a little easier.

Remember what I said about caution, well Bob has now just learned his lesson a little too late.  The rails, man he shouldn’t have grabbed onto the rails, because the minute Bob grabbed the rails the machine had him where it wanted him.

A shot of burning pain raced through Bob’s hands and then a smell of burning flesh reached Bob’s nose.  It was like a stove burner just got flipped up to high heat when Bob grabbed the rails.

He went to remove his hands.  They were both stuck.

He tried again, but it was no use, his hands were fused to the machine.

The burning subsided, and a strange coolness took over before he could start to scream.

Bob calmed himself, and found his voice.  “Hello, machine.  I think something is wrong here.”

Something was indeed, wrong here, and Bob watched in horror as the mileage screen began to run through numbers and, yes folks, I’m going there with this cliché.

The numbers stopped on 666.

Fire blew out the back-end of the tread mill as an explosion rocked the whole machine.  The belt began to pick up speed.  Bob could do only one thing and that was to run.  Run like his life depended on it and in so many ways, it did.

 End

Bob ran and his whole body was responding to his sudden jump from couch potato, to marathon-runner.  Bob’s legs were on fire, shin splints were tearing him apart, pain was running up his back, and the fat around his waist was flying like it had never flown before.  It was like a water balloon that wasn’t quite full, sloshing all over the place.

Bob was breathing heavy.  A heart attack must be on the horizon he somehow managed to think.  It would be his last thought because now all he could do was just hold on.

His hands were still fused and the treadmill wasn’t stopping.

Bob could hear his feet slapping the soft rubber, the tread moving so quick he could barely keep up.  If he didn’t stop soon he was going to pass out and he knew it.

He tried to do what most would do in this moment and that was to scream for help.  He went to do this, but he was so winded that he couldn’t even muster a breath, let alone a scream.

Bob continued to run as his legs turned to jelly.  He couldn’t go any further, but he had to.  Hot fire burned on the soles of his feet as smoke began to rise from them.        He ran, faster.

The mileage counter blinked out as the soles of his shoes melted off.  He was now running on bare feet.

He continued to run.

The mileage counter kicked back on and it once again read, 666.

Bob could smell the flesh burning off the bottoms of his feet and as it burned off blood flew into the air like raindrops, these raindrops moved upwards before they went downwards, splashing and crashing all over the machine and the ground around it.

The machine lapped up the blood and soaked it into its mechanical insides.  Wires ran from inside the machine to the blood on the floor and slurped it up like a kid slurping a milk shake through a straw.

Bob looked down and he saw with horror the skin split open and then shed like tissue paper.  Pieces of his flesh went everywhere and the machine wasted no time lapping them up.

Bob realized he was now running on naked skeletal feet.  He could feel the bones cracking as he ran and he knew before long, from his toes up through his ankles, there would be a fracturing earthquake.  His bones would just shatter like glass on the ground.

Then what?

Bob didn’t know, but the machine knew.

Bob felt hot pain run back up his left arm, his heart was about to go.

He went to scream, but before he could, a wire shot out of the console and flew right down his mouth.

Bob could feel it crawling down his throat to his insides.  He could feel it moving around, probing, like some invading worm.

Horror set in.

Bob knew what this thing was going after, his heart, and the endorphins racing through his system.

The wire pushed into Bob’s motor muscle and began to suck the blood dry and all the endorphins racing through Bob’s body.

Bob died instantly, his body slumped over, hands still fused, legs dragging out and bouncing with the moving treads.

The machine stopped when it was full and evaporated.  It dropped Bob’s lifeless body to the floor like a used sack of meat.

When he was found several days later, he was nothing more than a naked body on the floor of his garage.  It was ruled a suicide, but the authorities could never find out how he exactly did it.

Days passed.

At a home, many states away, an over weight man was searching the internet.  He saw an ad for a twenty-dollar tread mill . . .

What did you think about it?  

Will you ever get on a treadmill again?

Desert Island Books – Eric at THE IPC

Check out Eric’s site here:  http://isaacspictureconclusions.com/

Well the next Bookworm Castaway has been set.  Check out Eric’s selections below.  Thank you Eric for taking the challenge.

Remember if you want to be a Bookworm Castaway just click on the page Desert Island Books to learn more.

Here goes.

1. You have a choice of one complete series of books or three individual books.

While I would love to take the entire Book of the New Sun pentalogy (by Gene Wolfe), but I don’t think i could make it on just those alone, so I would bring The Urth of the New Sun. It’s one of my favorite books ever and the character of Severian kind of molded my growth into adulthood.

 

I would also bring along a copy of Mailman (J. Robert Lennon) – one of the best things I’ve read in YEARS – a story about a sociopathic American mail carrier – it’s touching and hilarious and sad all at the same time. Have you read this? Did he really try and eat his professor’s eyeball?? Highly recommended!!

I haven’t read this one, but it sounds interesting.  

 To finish this up I’d have to have a copy of The People of Paper by Salvador Plascencia – a very moving story of heartbreak and sadness that incorporates the characters and the author into the text. Very smart and well written.

2. Three CD’s you can’t live without – no greatest hits packages please.

 

AEnima by TOOL – this got me through some very hard times in my life….

 Garage Inc by Mettalica – some of my favorite classics covered by one of my favorite bands ever!

 A Momentary Lapse of Reason by Pink Floyd – ever song on this album is a transcendental beauty and could keep me at peace during long nights marooned on a desert island.

 3. Suntan Lotion or Sunglasses

 Totally sunglasses. I can work a nice tan and my eyes are getting old, so definitely some shades!

 

Desert Island Books – headinavice

First up – the site that helped start this idea in my head.

Swing over to http://headinavice.com/ to find a lot of exciting stuff.  It is one of the better blogs that I follow and I routinely make sure I read his movie reviews.  Thank you Tyson for taking the first seat on the boat to this new and fabulous island.

Here are his responses.  Check the page Desert Island Books if you, yourself, want to take this challenge.

1. You have a choice of one complete series of books or three individual books.

A series of books would be like The Lord of The Rings Trilogy, the Harry Potter series, or The Gunslinger series, for example. There are thousands of series out there so maybe you can enlighten me to some I haven’t seen.

If you didn’t want to be stuck with just one series you can choose three different books instead.

It has to be the Game of Thrones series.

game of thrones

I own them all, but they look so daunting. Being alone on the island would give me a chance to work through them. Failing that, I would have roughly a million pages of paper for making fires, writing rescue notes in bottles or lots of other uses. But I would hope I could sit down and get them all read.

2. Three CD’s you can’t live without – no greatest hits packages please (you will have a boom box with endless batteries to play them on).

30 Seconds To Mars – 30 Seconds To Mars

30-Seconds-To-Mars-A-Beautiful-Lie-cover

Being a film fan, I was aware of Jared Leto and wanted to check his band out one day at a local bar here in the UK. This was years ago, and they were amazing. We stayed behind after the gig, they all signed my album cover, and are now one of the biggest rock bands in the world, and arguably my favourite. This album was the one they played when they first came here, so I have to take this copy, my signed one, just for the memories.

Angels & Airwaves – LOVE

love

Some of you may have read my movie review for Love (if not, hit HERE!) and how it is one of the best films I have ever seen. The music was courtesy of Angels & Airwaves, fronted by Blink 182’s Tom DeLonge, and having seen them live several times, I can safely say they are incredible. Their music is anthemic, and is always uplifting, perfect for the island.

The Rolling Stones – Sticky Fingers

sticky fingers

I would normally have opted for Forty Licks, but since I’m prohibited from taking a greatest hits album, I went for Sticky Fingers, which contains one of my all time favourite songs, Brown Sugar. Got to love some Stones!!

 3. Suntan Lotion or Sunglasses

Has to be suntan lotion  As a blonde haired fair-skinned guy, I catch the sun easily and I get very cranky when sunburnt. Whilst there would be no one around to feel my wrath so to speak, I hate the pain of sun burn, so would have to choose lotion.