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Beneath The Wax – Available Now

It is with great excitement that I present to you my first “solo” published novella, Beneath The Wax. A big thank you to Nicky from Chasing Dreams Publishing who believed in me and pushed me to complete this work. And many thanks to quite a number of people, some of whom may never see this post, but were integral to sustaining me while I was writing. Thank you all.


Buy Beneath The Wax on Amazon button

1723: Constantine Bourgeois is a man of many secrets. Artisan by day, killer by night, he turns his victims into wax figures for his shop.

2045: Richard Baines works for the renowned Anthony Garfield Historical Museum. His mundane existence is a stark counterpoint to his fascination with serial killers and science fiction.

Constantine’s nightmares drive him to undertake a journey to uncover a long-forgotten secret. Richard’s research uncovers a company secret and the mystery of Madame Bourgeois.

Two men, two timelines, and truths that will only be revealed when they look Beneath the Wax…


The Time Traveler’s Almanac – Recommendation

The Time Traveler’s Almanac is the largest and most  definitive  collection of time travel stories ever assembled. Gathered into one volume by intrepid chrononauts and world-renowned anthologists Ann and Jeff VanderMeer, this book compiles more than a century’s worth of literary travels into the past and the future that will serve to reacquaint readers with beloved classics of the time travel genre and introduce them to thrilling contemporary innovations.

This marvelous volume includes nearly seventy journeys through time from authors such as Douglas Adams, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, William Gibson, Ursula K. Le Guin, George R. R. Martin, Michael Moorcock, H. G. Wells, and Connie Willis, as well as helpful non-fiction articles original to this volume (such as Charles Yu’s “Top Ten Tips For Time Travelers”).

In fact, this book is like a time machine of its very own, covering millions of years of Earth’s history from the age of the dinosaurs through to strange and fascinating futures, spanning the ages from the beginning of time to its very end. The Time Traveler’s Almanac is the ultimate anthology for the time traveler in your life.

Not a hint at anything (maybe) but this book was recommended to me while I was looking up Time Travel for a story idea. I’m thinking of picking up this book though just to see what others have written on this fascinating topic.

Any time-travelling books/movies/comics/anime you’ve enjoyed that you think I might be interested in?

A Time Traveler’s Diary: The Thought Process


A young girl bumps into a boy at school. A familiar face she recognizes from her pre-school days. A face she’s seen in class but barely remembers anywhere else. Their little collision sets off a chain of events that bring them closer together.


But the boy has a secret. One that he must keep hidden, even as his interaction with the girl threatens to reveal it, and with it, her own demise.

These last few weeks/months have been quite interesting. More than anything, they seem to be centered around this idea of Time Travel or at least something to do with the concept of time. I’m thinking of the Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children books I just finished. I’m thinking of the mind boggling film Predestination. I’m thinking of The Watchmaker of Filigree Street. I’m thinking of the prevalent Facebook/9Gag questions “Would you rather have the ability to go back in time and fix one mistake, or relive your entire life with all your current memories?” etc etc.

I find the concept of Time Travel fascinating for obvious reasons. The fact that we are bound to moving forward, unable to shift either to the left or to the right, let alone skip back a few paces, means every moment we experience now is what will be. The question is: will we regret the choices we make today tomorrow?




Don’t time travel into the past, roaming through the nuances as if they can change. Don’t bookmark pages you’ve already read. ~ James Altucher



I’ve got this novel in my head, and I’m working out the nuances of time travel. What exactly it looks like, why it needs to happen, who are the people affected by it and how are they affected by it. Will it be a magnificent, thunder-calling spectacle or will it be subtle shimmers one can step through? The past. The present. The future. All are important. All are relevant.

All define the Time Traveler’s Diary.


Clock by alsovision (

Clock by alsovision (

I’d been through this before. Definitely. The certainty of it clamped around my gut and agitated it in flits of tension. It was like that expression about butterflies, only it felt like a whole nest had spawned in there. I clutched at my abdomen through the flimsy t-shirt I wore, poking into the yielding gut. Distracted. The drive from work was normally hurried but today I had to drive slow, steady – patiently. It was all part of the plan you see. Whose plan? I don’t know, maybe God? What do I know? I just had to follow the script. And this was where it would all begin, with me looking up from my protruding gut up past my steering wheel, ahead of me at the empty road ahead. I had to be watching the bright green glow of the traffic light, anticipating the change of light from green, to orange…to off. A red car would appear from over the rise, a hatch back, followed by a white sedan blasting music that would make my windows rattle in their frame; a young man, slick black hair, mocha brown skin, large dark sunglasses. By the time I get to the traffic light they’ll be pulling off. I also then have to pull off – have to – and as I drive past, I must turn to look at the individual in the other car, see him nod at me…and then… and then this is the part where reality becomes…skewed, distorted.  There is definite darkness, I can’t see what’s happening but consciousness keeps me rooted to reality through my throbbing chest, riddled with a deep anguishing pain and there’s a sound that grates against my teeth – a loud scraping of metal against metal and a ceaseless tinkle of glass. I pry my eyes open, fighting the swimming darkness and I see…me. My mind does not want to comprehend what I’m seeing but its as clear as daylight even against the world that slowly dissipates into a fog of grey. Hallucinations, that’s what it must be. Darkness consumes me.

Mrs McDermitt. She’s my worst nightmare. What’s worse? I haven’t done her homework yet, oh man today isn’t going so well. First, mom is on my case for not waking up early, or making the bed, or washing my dishes after eating or walking around on my socks etc etc etc. Gosh she can be soooo annoying. And then my brother? Gah he is a nuisance, pouring cold water down my back as a joke, meaning I have to change into a new set of clothes – ironed or not I wasn’t going to care! So now I’m late. And now this truck is blocking my way, if I’m late I won’t be able to get to school in time to attempt some of that homework – wait, is this truck playing house music? The back of my teeth feel like they will rattle out of my mouth its so loud. Maybe its someone at the intersection ahead. Who cares, I just need to get to school, and quick.

You know that whole “with great power comes great responsibility” quote? Yeah, its been my motto for a long while now, well since that fateful day when that young professor suddenly showed up at my door and said “You are the one. Its yours. Fix it all!” and dropped dead at my feet. I of course shut the door against his slumped form, rushing back into the house and grabbing the first thing I could find- which turned out to be a rather useless broom stick – and returned to the door, ready to…well I don’t know but I was ready – maybe zombie movies have influenced me negatively.  Returning to the door I’d found him still slumped face down on the floor, cold and stiff as a rock. In his hand he’d held a device of sorts, with a clock on it and as I’d pried it out of his hardened fingers, I’d had noticed the yellow etchings engraved within the lines on his palm – the same etchings that were now engraved on my palms and each one occurring after I’d gone back, back to fix my mistakes. There was one last one to fix, and it was coming towards me from below the rise. The red hatch back I drove was borrowed indefinitely and that was okay because this was my last trip. I heard before I saw the white sedan coming up behind me, my windows rattling with the sound of the bass.  Luckily my windows were tinted otherwise the subsequent event might have played out differently, especially as I watched the traffic light die out – I knew that a truck would be coming around a bend soon at a relatively fast speed, followed by a young boy on a bicycle. This was it.  I clutched at my abdomen through the flimsy t-shirt I wore, poking into the yielding gut – butterflies.

When the young scientist stepped out of his car, his cold body shivering from intense cold, he knew this was his last errand. The last wrong to fix in an endless loop that made his head buzz with uncertainty; his mind could not comprehend the concepts of immortality and eternity – and the truth of their existence. However, the gadget in his hand corroborated this truth as the words “…those whom He foreknew, He also predestined…” reverberated through his thoughts. How could it be, that ten years ago, he was but a boy on a bicycle rushing to school to finish the homework of some horrid, torturous teacher that dished out detention mercilessly. That on that fateful day, as the truck he rode beside careened around the bend, slow to notice the two cars taking off at the intersection, that he would be unable to brake fast enough, and he’d be hurtling down towards the moving vehicles ahead. And when the truck’s wheels squealed in agony, burning from the friction of brakes being applied suddenly, only one thought crossed his mind. Death. It was a complete moment of shock. Never once had his mortality been questioned as intensely as this and as the prospect of death clutched at his young mind, he zoned out – where will I go if I die now!? What awaits me at the end!? As death encroached, a second car appeared, a red hatch back and from it, a man leaped out of the moving vehicle, landing on the concrete floor with a crunching thud. Somehow the man managed to rise to his feet quick enough to pull him off his bicycle as he watched the man’s car barrel into the side of the truck so hard the truck veered sideways. The man, whoever he was kept shoving some small device into his hand hand, a clock-like thing while he kept shouting at the boy in his shocked state “You are the one. Its yours. Fix it!” and disappeared.

Now the scientist stood outside the door of the man who had saved him that day and in his cold dying hands, the device that would see him here again. The problem, he realized, was that fixing it never changed anything, nothing drastic anyway and he’d find himself here all over again, the same amount of etchings on his palm – the life line detailing all his mistakes; there were too many even with all the time in the world. As he knocked on the door, fighting to keep his body alive, he realized how it could change and as the man pulled the door open he spoke,

“You can’t fix it –  only faith can save.”

Rajat Narula

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