Since then, from time to time, I have tinkered with the project, including one attempt which reached 5,000 words before I abandoned it. I really thought it was something I wouldn't be able to do. After all, the original was written in 1969, appearing the year after in the Eleventh Pan Book of Horror, a long time ago.
Last night, though, I finally managed to finish the first draft. At 10,000 words it's two and a half times longer than the original story and goes in some very strange directions. Next I need to start work on revisions, which should take about a week.
Then think of a title.
At the moment it has the utilitarian and unsatisfactory one of New Lurkers.
These are the opening lines:
It had all gone wrong, Stupidly, stupidly, stupidly wrong.
And someone would suffer.
Of that, Mike was serious. He slammed the car at as tight a turn as he could manage onto the next street, careering past a gaggle of blank faced women, kids in tow, on their way from school. In the gloom of a wintery afternoon they looked as pale as putty, and with about as much attractiveness. Stupid cows! Mike pressed on the horn, scattering them as he accelerated between parked cars down the narrow street. Behind him police sirens sounded menacingly loud and he knew he would have to abandon the car soon. They’d have its details. It wouldn’t be long, either, before a police helicopter had him in sight. With their infra red cameras he’d have no chance to escape after that.
Grinding his teeth, he thought again about that idiot. Morgan had as much idea how to rob a bank as he had of brain surgery – which was something Mike would gladly perform the next time they met, though he had a feeling it would be many years before Morgan would be walking the streets again. The police must have nabbed him by now for certain.At the next junction, Mike spun the car in front of a large white van, sending it up onto the kerb, then saw his opportunity: a stretch of shops, a bargain-basement furniture store with a car park out front, and an abandoned church...