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Dead Secrets
     

Dead Secrets

by Ian C. Dawkins Moore
 

Humphrey lay in his cot asleep. The hot afternoon sun burnt a shadow onto the wall beside him. The head of a large man bent through the light. A hand touched Humphries on the shoulder, and shook him awake.

“Hey Humphrey?” said the man, “Wake up, I need to talk to you.”
“What’s that,” groaned

Overview

Humphrey lay in his cot asleep. The hot afternoon sun burnt a shadow onto the wall beside him. The head of a large man bent through the light. A hand touched Humphries on the shoulder, and shook him awake.

“Hey Humphrey?” said the man, “Wake up, I need to talk to you.”
“What’s that,” groaned Humphrey.
“Name’s Stevens, I’m an investigator for the Alliance Insurance Company of Cincinnati. You are the beneficiary of an insurance policy, from one…” He pulled the policy document out of his pocket and held it in the light and read, “James Parker, late of Santa Monica.”
“Who?” says Humphrey.
“James Parker. Don’t you know him?” asks Stevens.

Humphrey struggled to get his mind to work; he screwed his eyes up and gathered the grimy sheets around his rotunda, hot, sticky body.
“James Parker, you say,” said Humphrey, pulling himself up. “Yeah, I know that name.
Who wants to know?” He reached for a cigarette, lit it and blew smoke through the ray of light, and stared defiantly up at Stevens....

Product Details

BN ID:
2940033213801
Publisher:
Ian C. Dawkins Moore
Publication date:
05/05/2012
Sold by:
Smashwords
Format:
NOOK Book
File size:
61 KB
Age Range:
18 Years

Meet the Author

My Biosphere My name is Ian, in England born My father’s from the islands, my mum’s from that shore My youth was spent fleeing xenophobic bores. I traveled to Athens and Timbuktu I bathed in Alhambra, Granada too I could never shake my brooding school. My American wife dragged me here My stepdaughter in toe, a brand new sphere My opposition to the states to five years to clear. I started again, from scratch in haste I stared to relearn a new verb, chase I started to learn a new action, waste. My endeavors were positive though painfully slow My dues well paid, eventually did grow My overnight success took many moons to glow. I now serve the public civil and clean I now work the markets and international scene I now have great credit and a labyrinth machine. My writing before covered prose and essay My heroes are Baldwin, Sojinka and Sesay My novel attempts include travel and jazzy. I read like a fish that swims in the night I spend more on books than I have such a right I meditate, cool out, and stay UN-Tight. My dreams are to learn the heart of the word My hopes are to chase that winged bird My endeavors I pray are to teach and be heard. I live in Oakland, city caught in a lie I dwell in environs of many colored eyes I inhabit a space of love and deep sighs. My time here now is eight years plus My memories of home are short and cussed My life’s irony is to be an English fuss.

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