Neon Gravel Horizon Epilogue

            Two years later, the world had mostly forgotten the scandal of the missing actress and the British kidnapper. New stars had risen, new scandals had broken, and the digital cycle had moved on to fresher meat.

            In a small bookstore in a quiet corner of London, a man sat at a wooden table, signing copies of a photography book. The book was titled 'The Loneliest Road', and it contained no photos of celebrities, no titles of fame. It was a collection of landscapes—salt flats, desert diners, and the way the light looks when it hits a 1969 Mustang at dawn.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Fifteen: The Final Frame

            The cabin in Maine was small, built of cedar and stone, perched on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. There was no cell service, no high-speed internet, and the nearest neighbor was five miles away.

            Arthur sat on the porch, a cup of tea in his hand, watching the fog roll in over the waves. It reminded him of London, but without the noise.

            Inside, he could hear Beatrice humming. She was painting—something she hadn't done since she was a teenager. She wasn't Beatrice the Star anymore. She was just Bea.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Fourteen: Concrete Jungle Echoes

            The video was short, grainy, and loud with the sound of the desert wind, but Marcus’s voice was unmistakable.

            “...I was protecting your interests, Beatrice. You’re a brand. This 'romance' would have been the biggest thing in Hollywood. We could have controlled the narrative...”

            The officers listened, their expressions shifting from duty to disgust. One of them looked at Marcus, who had gone a sickly shade of grey.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Thirteen: Chasing the Blue Hour

            The stairs of the library were old and smelled of dust and ancient paper. Arthur climbed them two at a time, his heart hammering against his ribs. He could hear the city below—the sirens, the shouting, the constant, low-frequency hum of eight million lives.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Twelve: The Long Stretch East

            The bus ride from Utah to New York took three days. Arthur didn't have the Mustang, didn't have the money—he had refused the settlement check, leaving it on the table, though he had signed the NDA out of pure fear. He was traveling on the last of his own cash, sitting in the back of a Greyhound bus that smelled of floor wax and desperation.

            The American landscape rolled past the window, a blur of cornfields and truck stops. He didn't film any of it. His Leica stayed in his bag, buried under his dirty laundry.

            He felt a deep, aching hollow in his chest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Beatrice. Not the star, but the girl in the hoodie who liked her coffee too sweet and her music too loud.

            He checked his phone at every stop. The news was full of her.

            “BEATRICE RETURNS: STAR RECOVERED FROM KIDNAPPER.”

            “MARCUS ANNOUNCES NEW SEASON AND COCKTAIL TOUR FINALE IN NYC.”

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Eleven: Contracts and Cold Realities

            The police station in Moab was a squat, tan building that felt like a furnace. Arthur sat in an interrogation room, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. He had been there for six hours. They hadn't charged him yet, but they hadn't let him go either.

            The door opened, and a man in a very expensive suit walked in. It wasn't Marcus. It was a lawyer with a face like a hawk.

            “My name is Leonard.” he said, sitting across from Arthur. “I represent Beatrice’s production company.”

            “Where is she?” Arthur asked, his voice cracking.

            “She’s being processed. And then she’s going back to Los Angeles. There’s a plane waiting.”

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Ten: The Architecture of Trust

            The door of the SUV opened, and Marcus stepped out. He looked exactly as he did on TV—perfectly tailored suit, hair that defied the desert wind, and an expression of practiced, paternal concern.

            “Beatrice, darling.” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Thank god you’re safe.”

            Beatrice stepped in front of Arthur, her body tense. “Stay back, Marcus.”

            “It’s over, Bea. The police are on their way. We’ve managed to keep the 'kidnapping' angle out of the major papers for now, but this... this boy needs to answer for what he’s done.”

            “He hasn't done anything!” she shouted. “I went with him. I chose this.”

What Are The Wrestling Diaries?

In 2001, disenchanted with the impending monopoly that Vince McMahon had on the American wrestling scene a chance reading of a two-page article in the Eastern Daily Press led to my renewed interest in the British wrestling product, and, more specifically, the Norwich-based World Association of Wrestling.

Over the next weeks and months I documented my interactions and communications with various parties involved in the company in my online blog, The Two Sheds Review, which at the time was just hitting it's stride, read by thousands of wrestling fans around the world. Yours truly would later enjoy a four-year stint in WAW, wearing many hats, including webmaster, writer, and occasional referee. Upon leaving at the end of 2005 both writer and wrestling company went on to other things, with The Two Sheds Review in particular going on to become Britain's longest-running wrestling and MMA blog, lasting sixteen years.

The Thursday Rock Show: Drivetime III

We're back with another edition of The Thursday Rock Show, and the third in our Drivetime mini-series, bringing to you ten more songs that have connections to cars and the world of travel.

Buy My Book!

If you liked the blog, why not buy my book?

In the heart of London, a series of impossible crimes has left the Metropolitan Police reeling. Vaults are being decimated by unnatural, extreme temperature shifts—some frozen solid to absolute zero, others melted into slag in seconds. Inspector Paul Solo, a man who prides himself on meticulous procedure and cold, hard facts, finds himself utterly out of his depth as he encounters a reality that defies every law of physics he has ever known.

Caught between the growing panic of a city under siege and his superior’s stubborn refusal to accept the truth, Solo is forced to look beyond the mundane. When a mysterious, ancient figure named Doctor Phineas Magus appears, he reveals a terrifying reality: London is built upon a hidden nexus of ley lines, and a dark, unseen power is systematically draining them to fuel a ritual that could shatter the city.

As Solo is pulled into a world of magic, secret syndicates, and powerful puppet masters, he discovers that the elusive criminal known as "Celsius" is not the monster the police fear, but a pawn trapped in a deadly game of coercion. Now, a disgraced detective and a weary wizard must form an unlikely alliance to stop an ancient threat that hides in plain sight.

The battle for London has moved into the shadows. With the city’s heart at stake and the lines between good and evil blurring, Paul Solo must transform from a lawman of the streets into a guardian of the extraordinary. But in a world where nature itself can be weaponized, the price of magic is steep—and the next shift in the ley lines could be the city's last.

You can buy Anglo-Force: The Celsius Enigma on Amazon at https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0H3KSKCZQ

Social Media Discoveries 66: Scratch City, Ely Jaffe, The Shaken Bakers, Pickin' On Series and More!

Episode 66 of our Social Media Discoveries series is upon us, and this week we've got quite a bit of bluegrass for you, including some from that well-known bluegrass hotspot in Wales. There's also a guy with a stylophone and a guitar, and a ska version of a popular Queen classic.

What Does It Take To Get Noticed Around Here?

I was reading something on Facebook a little while ago, written by a bloke who's recently lost his job and is trying to earn a bit of a living doing the content creator thing, and it kind of resonated with me a little.

 

You see, he was basically asking his Facebook friends and followers for help. He simply asked them if they could help him out by commenting and possibly sharing some of his posts, because by doing this it would show the Facebook algorithm that people are paying attention to what he does.

The Thursday Rock Show: Drivetime II

The Thursday Rock Show continues with it's Drivetime theme, but with a slight difference this week, after all, man also travels by train, truck, motorcycle, bicycle, and in an enormously expensive Formula One car.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Nine: Broken Signals in Utah

            The park ranger truck was a tank compared to the Mustang, but it felt like a cage. They were driving through the desolate beauty of Southern Utah, the red rocks rising like frozen flames around them.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Eight: Static in the Air

            The Mustang screamed across the salt flats, a ghost of blue metal in a sea of white. Arthur didn't have the lights on; he was driving by the pale glow of the moon and the terrifying red blink of the drone above them.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Seven: The Salt of the Earth

            The campfire was small, a flickering orange heart in the vast darkness of the Nevada basin. Arthur had gathered some sagebrush and dry wood, creating enough light to see Beatrice’s face. They were miles from anything, the Mustang a dark silhouette against the star-choked sky.

David Croft's Greatest Hits

Some new videos from my YouTube channel, celebrating the work of comedy writer David Croft with rock versions of his sitcom's themes.

All the music here was generated using the Suno AI music generator and is available to stream on Spotify, Apple Music, etc.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Six: Dust and Neon Dreams

            The drive through the Nevada desert was a blur of shimmering heat and jagged red rock. Arthur pushed the Mustang harder than he ever had, the needle hovering near eighty as he constantly checked the mirrors. The fear was a physical weight now, a knot in his stomach that no amount of desert air could loosen.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Five: The Texture of Anonymity

            The sun was dipping toward the horizon when they reached a small town on the border of California and Nevada. It was the kind of place that consisted of a single main street, a diner with a flickering neon sign, and a motel called The Sleepy Willow.

Neon Gravel Horizon Chapter Four: North Toward the Fog

            The dawn was a bruised grey when Arthur pulled the Mustang up to the corner of Post and Mason. The city was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic thrum of the engine and the distant clang of a cable car. He didn't think she would show up. He had spent the last four hours convinced it was a joke, a celebrity’s whim that would evaporate with the morning mist.