Whilst in India I have started to write a book. I’m calling the book Red Moon and here’s an early excerpt. The book centres around disappearances of young people in Goa. The initial inspiration was supplied by some spooky events in Pondicherry. This is the second post related to the book. You can read the other by clicking the link at the end. Enjoy! Or not as the case may be…
“Is Thangal coming?”
Feeling the eagle eye of Thangal from his car, Bobby smiles and raises his eyebrows, as if to say, what do you think?
Under his breath, Cajy sussurates, “Fuckin’ hell.” He climbs out of the drivers side and shuts the door. “Come on then.”
The construction site is a deserted, four storey-high shell. A hollow, concrete matrix. The concrete discoloured by damp stains and surface fungus. A housing project, like so many throughout India, that has come to nothing due to bad workmanship, poor management, the financial crisis and corruption. Partially rusted, corrugated steel sheets are crudely braced to the lower level with wooden scaffold: an attempt to prevent access and squatters. Some sheets are missing, others have levered bends where the divide from the outside world has been breached. Not just weeds but tree whips grow through the dark, irregular interstices where the sheets meet, indicative of the years this open wound has grown infected by the unclean road. Stained, green netting that before now caught falling debris, drapes like tattered cobwebs. The beating sun only casts darker shadows within. A forbidden, unholy looking place.
Cajy and Bobby clamber over a low wall and tread carefully by the outside of the steel sheets over thick-low shrubs. Moving towards the rear of the site. Bobby is very conscious of what he is disturbing under his polished black shoes. “Watch out for snakes.” Cajy winks.
“Piss off.” Bobby grumbles. Cajy arrives at a join in the corrugated steel where he prises the top sheet forward with his truncheon, creating a gap. He beckons Bobby, “Come on.” Bobby is a little more precarious, one hand with truncheon, the other with the radio. “Here, clip the radio to your shirt. Free up your hand.” Cajy straightens Bobby up before they enter. Bobby looks disturbed. “We don’t know what we’re going to find in here so pucker up.” Bobby nods and stoops inside. His eyes adjusting to the light. Cajy follows letting the creaking steel retire. They are both hit with the musty damp air. As their eyes adjust to a far corner are dirty blankets, butchered tins, litter and the remnants of wood fires where some lonely passing tenant has been cooking. A dirty lead is tied to the twisted steel bracing of a concrete foundation. Rubble covers the floor and desperate weeds push through cracks. A rat scurries for cover. Bobby angles his mouth and presses the radio, “We’re inside.”
Other excerpts from Red Moon: