Nat King Neebors

I’ve had the pleasure of editing some of this guys work. It was a challenge though because as an English Sassanach I didn’t understand half of it. I persevered, though. Because what I could see very clearly was a very talented author.

C. J. Nicol

Fitsteps chase us up atween the hooses, an a shadow appears frae naewhere, loomin up ower mah shooder. Ah spin roon an clench mah fists, but there’s naebody there. Whit an eejit! Course there’s naebody there – it’s mah ain bloody shadow comin frae that dingy owerheid, an the fitsteps wis mah ain anaw, echoin up the narrow close eftir us. Ah need tae get a grip an stoap bein sa paranoid. Naebody’s followin us. Naebody’s watchin us. Ah lean back oan the waw, pausin fir a breather.

In.

Oot.

In.

Oot.

Ah unzip mah jaiket an pull at the t-shirt unnerneath. There’s big damp patches, an it sticks tae mah chest an oxters. Christ, Ah’m a wreck. Grip, man, get a grip. Ah’m sweatin like a barman at happy oor, an Ah ken if Ah dinnae cool it Ah’ll wind up giein mahsel away. Cause that’s the punch, right…

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