Paula R.C. Readman
Paula lives in an English village in Essex, England. So far there hasn’t been any murders or zombies disturbing the peace of her village, so she has to make up stories. Her writing career started in 2010 with the publication of her first ghost story by English Heritage. She has won two writing competitions and has had a crime novella ‘The Funeral Birds’ accepted for publication by Demain Publishing. She’s busy editing a collection of short stories which is due to be published later in 2020.
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by Paula R.C. Readman Martha fed more sticks to the fire. Soon the cauldron bubbled. She took a deep breath and began to chant. She had to get it right. First, she added rosemary for remembrance and lavender for love. Would he appear before her as the old witch had promised? As the two […]
by Paula R.C. Readman In the depth of a cloudless night, you came to me. Your cheeks all aglow and lips slightly parted. “A Whiter Shade of Pale” tunelessly ran through my head. I reached for your hands. Cold to the touch, I cared not. “Come. Lay beside me, my darling, for I shall warm […]
Thank you for giving me this opportunity to talk in-depth about my writing. I guess all writers start out on a similar path to some degree and have to overcome self-doubt, especially when it comes to dealing with knock backs and rejections. In the beginning I didn’t plan on becoming a writer, in fact my first love had always been art.
Paula lives in an English village in Essex, England. So far there hasn’t been any murders or zombies disturbing the peace of her village, so she has to make up stories. Her writing career started in 2010 with the publication of her first ghost story by English Heritage. She has won two writing competitions and has had a crime novella
by Paula R.C. Readman “The first bite is as powerful as love,” he whispered. Cold lips brushed mine as his stale breath caressed my neck. In his empty eyes, death lingered. His chilling arms snaked around my waist, leaching my body’s heat. I shivered. The moonlight edged his fangs as he bent to take […]
by Paula R. C. Readman Streetlights darken. Laughter fills the air. Eager fresh faces dart everywhere. “Trick or Treat,” echoes in porches. I drop the grubby net curtain. Anticipation races through me. Ghosts from my past gather. I wait in the shadows. The razor in my hand gleams. Here comes the knock. Laughter bubbles […]