The next short story is intended to remain within Ian Flemings time frame for Bond. I wanted to place him in a period of his career which has not been explored. As a consequence it is set in 1942 & sees a twenty eight year old Bond battling a ruthless enemy. Part one is almost complete & I hope you will enjoy reading it.
Hopefully 'AN UNGENTLEMANLY ACT' will be ready for posting within the next couple of days.
The next short story is intended to remain within Ian Flemings time frame for Bond. I wanted to place him in a period of his career which has not been explored. As a consequence it is set in 1942 & sees a twenty eight year old Bond battling a ruthless enemy. Part one is almost complete & I hope you will enjoy reading it.
Hopefully 'AN UNGENTLEMANLY ACT' will be ready for posting within the next couple of days.
Great title Stag, that alone wants me to read the story
“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. "
-Casino Royale, Ian Fleming
Silhouette ManThe last refuge of a scoundrelPosts: 8,646MI6 Agent
Indeed, anything about James Bond and WWII already has my interest.
"The tough man of the world. The Secret Agent. The man who was only a silhouette." - Ian Fleming, Moonraker (1955).
Thanks everyone. In contrast to my last effort which was written off the cuff, I have done some plot lining with this one. I have a couple of endings but not sure which one to use yet. All I will say is you can expect a lot of ungentlemanly behaviour in 'An Ungentlemanly Act'!
Also, given the period in which it's set I have taken the liberty to post photos of some of things (& a person) who will feature just so that those who aren't familiar with the various guns, vehicles etc will know what they look like.
Opps, it would appear the postimage site is down. I will post as soon as I am able.
I didn't know that. I have referenced much about Bond from Silhouette Mans excellent 'The Bondologist' blog & I thoroughly recommend it to anyone who has in interest in JB. Here's a link.
I didn't know that. I have referenced much about Bond from Silhouette Mans excellent 'The Bondologist' blog & I thoroughly recommend it to anyone who has in interest in JB. Here's a link.
Very good -{ Where do you get your writing Skills from?
Writing skills? I wasn't aware I had any!
Life & life experiences - that's all (not that I've ever been a spy). After a couple of decades of literary inactivity I am beginning to find my feet again. A faltering start I know but hey I'm no IF. 'An Ungentlemanly Act' is going to be much longer than the previous effort, part two had largely been completed but I have decided to add some new content.
Here's the first chapter of a novel. I'd call the chapter "Hour of the Wolf." In fact, that might be a good title for a Bond book.
Bond checked his Rolex. Four a.m. The hour of the wolf. The time when the body is at its lowest ebb. The time when most people die, when nightmares are at their worst, and demons roam the land. Bond’s current demon was named Stanislav.
Bond took a silver flask from his regulation-issue pea coat and swallowed another swig of the Albanian brandy. He felt the burn in his throat and in his belly. He offered the flask to Milos, his driver.
“Albanian!” Milos made a retching noise. “Like dishwater.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed any difference between this and your Serbian brandy.”
“James, what you want with Stanislav?” Milos said, asking the question that had obviously been on his mind all night. Bond shifted his position in his seat, trying to get comfortable, although after sitting for three hours he knew there was no comfortable position for a man of his height in this pre-war Renault.
“My people have some questions for Stanislav,” he said.
“Your people, James? You used to be SBS. Who are your people now?”
“People who want to know why Stanislav sold out to the communists.”
Milos waved his hand in a gesture of indifference.
“The communists,” he said. “We fought with the communists in the war. Against the Nazis.”
“It’s not 1944, Milos. We’re not allies with the Russians anymore. Or Marshall Tito.”
Not for the first time that night Bond wondered whose side Milos would be on when push came to shove. He had once saved Milos’s life. Did that count for anything anymore? He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the shifting loyalties of this new war—this Cold War, as people were calling it.
“What you going to do with Stanislav?”
Bond held up the syringe of sodium pentothal.
“Inject him with this. It’s a sedative. Then load him in the back seat and drive to the Italian border. I’ll be in Venice by breakfast.”
“You’ll never get across.”
“We’ve bribed the border guards.”
“Why not just shoot him with that little gun of yours? Get it over with.”
“My people want to know what he told the communists.”
“That gun of yours is too small, anyway. Too small for a man like Stanislav.”
There was fear in Milos’s voice.
“It’s big enough.”
“What happened to the grips on that gun?”
“It came that way.”
“Did you pay less for it because it had no grips?”
“I paid nothing for it. I took it from a man who intended to shoot me with it.”
“What happened to the man who –“
Milos stopped talking as the hulking shape of Stanislav Bulgarin emerged from the mist. He had two other men with him.
Ok, time to stick my neck out. ) My first ever attempt at writing a short ( very short) story.
( Please forgive all spelling and grammar mistakes) I wanted a story with No dialogue, no
names, but set at this time of year, and before Bond24 comes out incase they try and nick any
of my brilliant ideas. )
Congratulations to all who take the time to write fan fiction, It's bloody hard. {[]
Twas the Night Before .......
The girl’s body broke the water with barely a ripple, and quickly rose to move with a strong fluid rhythm, each long languid stroke bringing an almost sensual sensation to the otherwise mundane act. She would be an athletic lover, given the muscle tone and definition of her long swimmers legs powering her forward.
Bond could only ponder these thoughts for a second before shaking his mind back to the job in hand. The pool the girl was using was housed in a glass dome attached to a low level ranch house chalet, set close to a sheer cliff face rising behind. Sporadic trees and bushes, poked out of the snow covered vista. At any other time it would have been a beautiful holiday spot.
Bond scanned the area again, he’d been watching the house and it’s routine for three days, as expected a figure appeared from the chalets’ front door, stood looking around for a second before moving off to circle the building, as Bond was at an elevated level owing to the chalet being in a shallow valley He could watch the guard until he moved past the Dome the girl was in. As usual the guard stopped to watch her for a few minutes.
She seem not to notice or more likely didn’t care only concentrating on her exercise, she still had at least twenty minutes swimming before she’d have to leave.
The guard seemed to have had his fill and returned to his patrol. With Bond watching till he returned to the front door again, another quick look around before he went inside. Shifting his weight Bond checked the time on his Rolex, almost ten thirty. Time to get ready.
Bond had decided earlier how he would attack and quickly ran over the facts M had furnished him with. English drug lord financed by Smersh now moving into the Canadian area and then expected to move into north America. M absentmindedly filled a pipe as he added, Facts on destination, Times and his liaison officer at station C.
He removed a grenade a squat round device with a smaller timer ring on the top, which he set to five minutes. Moving to the right and steepest incline he gather up some snow to make snowball, then pushed it forward. He didn’t bother to watch as it rolled gathering more snow heading towards the chalet, But ran quickly round the left of the house to get to the Back of the building. He’d already practised this in his mind and knew all it’s entrances and exits.
The door was locked but easily Broken open with a forceful twist of the handle and a hard shove from a determined Bond. He fond himself in a modern kitchen, small but functional. Bond removed his Beretta with silencer attached from its holster now placed across his chest under his ski jacket. He eased open the kitchen door into the Main living area, quickly taking in the scene before him and waited ….
Three Men were in the room, two seated on a couch the third standing by the front door. Suddenly but with only a muffled thump the Front door seemed to buckle, Next it exploded with a huge cloud of snow, Door splinters and chunks of what had been a human only milliseconds before. Bond slipped into the room Raising his Beretta, quickly firing two bullets into the chest of the second guard. Sending him spinning round and across the back of the couch.
Now Bond turned to the Drug Lord, as he was pulling out a gun from his waist band, a Browning thought Bond. He was tall, bulky and sweating heavily, Before he had a chance to target Bond, Bond fired Once ! The Beretta's bullet entered just above the right eye exiting in an upward direction taking most of his skull and brain matter with it.
Bond stood still and listened for any Noises, Nothing! Crossing to the fireplace he removed the picture of “ The crying Boy” favoured by many motels, Behind was a small safe, Bond already had the combination so had it open in seconds. Removing the scant paperwork, detailing the Smersh contacts and dead drop points he crammed them into his inside jacket pocket. Quickly replacing his gun and zipping up his jacket.
Checking his watch again He realised he had only about Five minutes to get out, without any witnesses.
Back on the ridge above the chalet Bond was pulling out his skis from their hiding position, placing his feet into the bindings, he took one last look back at the girl coming to an end of her swimming session. He watched as he reached for a large towel and began drying her naked body, pulling on a dressing robe and using the towel to tie up her hair. Then with a push he was off skiing through the trees, gradually picking up speed as he zig zagged away from her, into the darkness. A few minutes later carried by the wind the sounds of her screams echoed across the Mountain range. Bond couldn’t help but think it was a terrible way to spend the night before Christmas.
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
James Bond gazed out of his Office Window that overlooked Regents Park directly across from the great, grey Building that had been his Place of Employment for several Years. Only the Day before had he returned from a dangerous Assignment to smuggle a Defector over to the West from the Eastern Bloc of Europe. There were two unnecessary Deaths and a Flesh Wound to show for it. But Bond had managed to get the Man safely through the Frontier and into a Safe House near the Berlin Outskirts. Returning to his Hotel, he drank two Vodka Martinis with Slices of Lemon Peel and smoked his 20th Cigarette of the Day. Then he returned to his Room, with the annoyance of having no Woman to share the Night with. But Bond had long learned that that was the Life of someone in his Profession. Some Adventures had there Rewards, whilst other's didn't.
He turned away from the Window and walked around to his Desk and into the Chair facing the Office Doorway. The whole Assignment had been given to him after Months of Planning and Thought. The Man had been a former Member of S.M.E.R.S.H, Bonds old Nemesis and Target. Bond found it amusing that a Part of his personal Enemy wanted to join his Side of the Wall. He grimly smiled to himself as he lit a Cigarette and leaned back in the Chair. Yes, it had been a rather bizarre Affair indeed.
1.On Her Majesties Secret Service 2.The Living Daylights 3.license To Kill 4.The Spy Who Loved Me 5.Goldfinger
I've enjoyed reading this collection of short stories. It is interesting to note that two of them (Mine excluded) feature Bonds beloved Beretta - try saying that after half a bottle of whisky! It is also interesting to note the slightly differing interpretations of the same character. My take on the subject matter for 'An Ungentlemanly Act' is a younger Bond, perhaps less cynical & definitely more athletic.
I've been tapping away on the keyboard in an effort to produce part two - I hope to post soon.
Just as a post script I once wrote a book & sent it off to a literary agent. To my great surprise she offered to represent me in it's publication but I declined - when the manuscript came back to me I ceremonially burned it. Who knows, had I gone ahead with the project I could have been writing Bond books by now!
) From my childish attempt, I now know how hard it is to write even a short,
Short story. So my respect for fans who actually write long Bond adventures
has risen ten fold. -{
"I've been informed that there ARE a couple of QAnon supporters who are fairly regular posters in AJB."
Sorry guys but I have pulled my short story. There is obviously not enough interest in it here for me to continue &, more importantly, With a change of main protagonist, I hope to develop the idea further for publishing on amazon.
Comments
Hopefully 'AN UNGENTLEMANLY ACT' will be ready for posting within the next couple of days.
Great title Stag, that alone wants me to read the story
-Casino Royale, Ian Fleming
Also, given the period in which it's set I have taken the liberty to post photos of some of things (& a person) who will feature just so that those who aren't familiar with the various guns, vehicles etc will know what they look like.
Opps, it would appear the postimage site is down. I will post as soon as I am able.
Bonds B38 Roadster.
Unmodified Beretta.
Citroen traction Avant
MP40 SMG
P38
And finally someone who bears more than a passing resemblance to the film star Veronica Lake makes an appearance.
I'M sure many today, wouldn't
Know her.
http://www.thebondologistblog.blogspot.co.uk.
Meanwhile I hope to post the first part of 'An Ungentlemanly Act' sometime tomorrow. I hope you all will enjoy.
Thank you, kind sir. I hope to add some new content there very soon.
And I look forward to your next short story tomorrow. -{
Writing skills? I wasn't aware I had any!
Life & life experiences - that's all (not that I've ever been a spy). After a couple of decades of literary inactivity I am beginning to find my feet again. A faltering start I know but hey I'm no IF. 'An Ungentlemanly Act' is going to be much longer than the previous effort, part two had largely been completed but I have decided to add some new content.
Bond checked his Rolex. Four a.m. The hour of the wolf. The time when the body is at its lowest ebb. The time when most people die, when nightmares are at their worst, and demons roam the land. Bond’s current demon was named Stanislav.
Bond took a silver flask from his regulation-issue pea coat and swallowed another swig of the Albanian brandy. He felt the burn in his throat and in his belly. He offered the flask to Milos, his driver.
“Albanian!” Milos made a retching noise. “Like dishwater.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed any difference between this and your Serbian brandy.”
“James, what you want with Stanislav?” Milos said, asking the question that had obviously been on his mind all night. Bond shifted his position in his seat, trying to get comfortable, although after sitting for three hours he knew there was no comfortable position for a man of his height in this pre-war Renault.
“My people have some questions for Stanislav,” he said.
“Your people, James? You used to be SBS. Who are your people now?”
“People who want to know why Stanislav sold out to the communists.”
Milos waved his hand in a gesture of indifference.
“The communists,” he said. “We fought with the communists in the war. Against the Nazis.”
“It’s not 1944, Milos. We’re not allies with the Russians anymore. Or Marshall Tito.”
Not for the first time that night Bond wondered whose side Milos would be on when push came to shove. He had once saved Milos’s life. Did that count for anything anymore? He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the shifting loyalties of this new war—this Cold War, as people were calling it.
“What you going to do with Stanislav?”
Bond held up the syringe of sodium pentothal.
“Inject him with this. It’s a sedative. Then load him in the back seat and drive to the Italian border. I’ll be in Venice by breakfast.”
“You’ll never get across.”
“We’ve bribed the border guards.”
“Why not just shoot him with that little gun of yours? Get it over with.”
“My people want to know what he told the communists.”
“That gun of yours is too small, anyway. Too small for a man like Stanislav.”
There was fear in Milos’s voice.
“It’s big enough.”
“What happened to the grips on that gun?”
“It came that way.”
“Did you pay less for it because it had no grips?”
“I paid nothing for it. I took it from a man who intended to shoot me with it.”
“What happened to the man who –“
Milos stopped talking as the hulking shape of Stanislav Bulgarin emerged from the mist. He had two other men with him.
( Please forgive all spelling and grammar mistakes) I wanted a story with No dialogue, no
names, but set at this time of year, and before Bond24 comes out incase they try and nick any
of my brilliant ideas. )
Congratulations to all who take the time to write fan fiction, It's bloody hard. {[]
Twas the Night Before .......
The girl’s body broke the water with barely a ripple, and quickly rose to move with a strong fluid rhythm, each long languid stroke bringing an almost sensual sensation to the otherwise mundane act. She would be an athletic lover, given the muscle tone and definition of her long swimmers legs powering her forward.
Bond could only ponder these thoughts for a second before shaking his mind back to the job in hand. The pool the girl was using was housed in a glass dome attached to a low level ranch house chalet, set close to a sheer cliff face rising behind. Sporadic trees and bushes, poked out of the snow covered vista. At any other time it would have been a beautiful holiday spot.
Bond scanned the area again, he’d been watching the house and it’s routine for three days, as expected a figure appeared from the chalets’ front door, stood looking around for a second before moving off to circle the building, as Bond was at an elevated level owing to the chalet being in a shallow valley He could watch the guard until he moved past the Dome the girl was in. As usual the guard stopped to watch her for a few minutes.
She seem not to notice or more likely didn’t care only concentrating on her exercise, she still had at least twenty minutes swimming before she’d have to leave.
The guard seemed to have had his fill and returned to his patrol. With Bond watching till he returned to the front door again, another quick look around before he went inside. Shifting his weight Bond checked the time on his Rolex, almost ten thirty. Time to get ready.
Bond had decided earlier how he would attack and quickly ran over the facts M had furnished him with. English drug lord financed by Smersh now moving into the Canadian area and then expected to move into north America. M absentmindedly filled a pipe as he added, Facts on destination, Times and his liaison officer at station C.
He removed a grenade a squat round device with a smaller timer ring on the top, which he set to five minutes. Moving to the right and steepest incline he gather up some snow to make snowball, then pushed it forward. He didn’t bother to watch as it rolled gathering more snow heading towards the chalet, But ran quickly round the left of the house to get to the Back of the building. He’d already practised this in his mind and knew all it’s entrances and exits.
The door was locked but easily Broken open with a forceful twist of the handle and a hard shove from a determined Bond. He fond himself in a modern kitchen, small but functional. Bond removed his Beretta with silencer attached from its holster now placed across his chest under his ski jacket. He eased open the kitchen door into the Main living area, quickly taking in the scene before him and waited ….
Three Men were in the room, two seated on a couch the third standing by the front door. Suddenly but with only a muffled thump the Front door seemed to buckle, Next it exploded with a huge cloud of snow, Door splinters and chunks of what had been a human only milliseconds before. Bond slipped into the room Raising his Beretta, quickly firing two bullets into the chest of the second guard. Sending him spinning round and across the back of the couch.
Now Bond turned to the Drug Lord, as he was pulling out a gun from his waist band, a Browning thought Bond. He was tall, bulky and sweating heavily, Before he had a chance to target Bond, Bond fired Once ! The Beretta's bullet entered just above the right eye exiting in an upward direction taking most of his skull and brain matter with it.
Bond stood still and listened for any Noises, Nothing! Crossing to the fireplace he removed the picture of “ The crying Boy” favoured by many motels, Behind was a small safe, Bond already had the combination so had it open in seconds. Removing the scant paperwork, detailing the Smersh contacts and dead drop points he crammed them into his inside jacket pocket. Quickly replacing his gun and zipping up his jacket.
Checking his watch again He realised he had only about Five minutes to get out, without any witnesses.
Back on the ridge above the chalet Bond was pulling out his skis from their hiding position, placing his feet into the bindings, he took one last look back at the girl coming to an end of her swimming session. He watched as he reached for a large towel and began drying her naked body, pulling on a dressing robe and using the towel to tie up her hair. Then with a push he was off skiing through the trees, gradually picking up speed as he zig zagged away from her, into the darkness. A few minutes later carried by the wind the sounds of her screams echoed across the Mountain range. Bond couldn’t help but think it was a terrible way to spend the night before Christmas.
Here is my rather horrible Attempt )
Reflections in an Office
James Bond gazed out of his Office Window that overlooked Regents Park directly across from the great, grey Building that had been his Place of Employment for several Years. Only the Day before had he returned from a dangerous Assignment to smuggle a Defector over to the West from the Eastern Bloc of Europe. There were two unnecessary Deaths and a Flesh Wound to show for it. But Bond had managed to get the Man safely through the Frontier and into a Safe House near the Berlin Outskirts. Returning to his Hotel, he drank two Vodka Martinis with Slices of Lemon Peel and smoked his 20th Cigarette of the Day. Then he returned to his Room, with the annoyance of having no Woman to share the Night with. But Bond had long learned that that was the Life of someone in his Profession. Some Adventures had there Rewards, whilst other's didn't.
He turned away from the Window and walked around to his Desk and into the Chair facing the Office Doorway. The whole Assignment had been given to him after Months of Planning and Thought. The Man had been a former Member of S.M.E.R.S.H, Bonds old Nemesis and Target. Bond found it amusing that a Part of his personal Enemy wanted to join his Side of the Wall. He grimly smiled to himself as he lit a Cigarette and leaned back in the Chair. Yes, it had been a rather bizarre Affair indeed.
I've been tapping away on the keyboard in an effort to produce part two - I hope to post soon.
Just as a post script I once wrote a book & sent it off to a literary agent. To my great surprise she offered to represent me in it's publication but I declined - when the manuscript came back to me I ceremonially burned it. Who knows, had I gone ahead with the project I could have been writing Bond books by now!
Very enjoyable, guys, thank you all esp stag for starting the ball rolling.
Short story. So my respect for fans who actually write long Bond adventures
has risen ten fold. -{