Rewrite (22/08 – 18.00pm) ‘Fluorescence Illuminated’ ’ By groovyscone – Novel beginning! APPRECIATE FEEDBACK! =) *updated daily*

The beginning of, and an exert from my novel –  Fluorescence Illuminated’ – By groovyscone


Chapter 1

Fluorescent Black, lay awake in bed late one evening, writhing in agony as he clutched at his huge, rounded, ulcerated belly. He was beginning to become frustrated with his almost daily burden of pain and imprisonment. After the second poisoning Black had suffered in this Hozacian month, the hospital dogs had immediately assumed him dead and sent his body to the cellar to be recycled. If not for regaining consciousness and very sharp thought, Black would most certainly, (and quite literally) be dog food.

When the hospital dogs had abandoned a presumably dead, Black, atop a pile of partially decomposing, cold, undistinguishable corpses. He had awakened almost instantly; the fear distilling his senses adequately enough (despite the poison coursing through him) for cautious action. Creeping slowly to his feet, Black felt around in the murky, almost opaque corridor. Sending an old tin mop bucket scuttling across the slimy concrete floor with his left boot, he took deep, timed breathes. As Black steadily began regaining his posture, he noticed the whirring wiz of machinery echoing mechanically from an air vent overhead.

Hauling himself high up, through the metallic ventilation shaft above him, Black slid onto his belly, wriggling methodically along, inch by inch, until coming to what he sensed must be an opening. A tiny diamond shaped, ray of light, glowed reassuringly from the pinnacle of the vast space above Black’s head.  Although this tiny beam of light was flashing like a strobe, it was barely perceivable to the Hozacian eye. If not for the deafening buzz of the perpetual spinning of fans above, Black would not have noticed the lightning speed, aluminium blades circling, centimetres from tufts of his gnarled black hair.

Finding a golden green flare amongst his pack, it dawned on Black just how useful these rechargeable, illuminating flares had become. In not only emitting an overpowering fluorescence, an almost blinding light, golden green flares also excelled more than any other substance in The Randromeda Galaxy, in making the activator not only enlightened, but also filled with ecstacy, wisdom, purpose and passion for the flares duration. Although typically a flare would only last the activator approximately a Hozacian hour, for reasons unbeknown to Black, they lasted him double this time.

Black held the flare tight to his body. Finding the miniscule indentation exactly parallel to the flares handle, he found his thumb and forced it into the indentation so that a microscopic patch of his print was visible to the flares biometric scanner. Immediately the flare kicked into life, illuminating everything. Black felt elation, hope and knowledge rise through him like a dam giving way and exploding, leaving an ocean to free fall through space and time. As the shiny metal walls lit up, and the complex network of rotating, chopping fans became apparent, Black noticed a small square passageway, which prior to the flare had been in total blackness. He dodged the towering slicing blades of the overhead fans like an amphetamine hawk, and easily crawled to safety down the now illuminated, square passageway.

To be Continued….

***please note this is updated at least daily, please check back if you like =)

Thanks for reading =)

This is the beginning segment of my novel, that I decided to write about a year ago, and I acually started about 2 days ago.  This is the reason I started my blog in the first place. To mix with likeminded people, and see what I can learn from the incredibly talented amazing’s out there.  ‘Like Jazz’ is a temporary title, until one evolves, because due to the advice of one of the groovier people out there, I have decided to freestyle my novel completely. At least initially anyway… So, no character development anywhere except my head, no plot, completely improvised.

I don’t have a clue if this is the best idea ever or, the opposite, only time and trial and error will tell.

AS ALWAYS I WELCOME ALL FEEDBACK, good, bad, boring, irrelevant, enlightening, guru’s, animals, dogs, hippies, vicars, surfers, chinchilla’s, duck billed platipie, its all groovy, goldfish, japanese pusher fish’s opionion will be given additional priority.


Peace and Love


Scone =)


Poem – ‘Overpowering Emotion’ by groovyscone FEEDBACK PLEASE! =)


‘Overpowering Emotion’ by groovyscone, kindly rate and comment =)

If I wheedled a seventeenth century renaissance mace?


Would you get a private detective on the case?


If I gave you a seventy foot long red liquorice bootlace,


And presented it to you in an elaborate fancy seventy foot long purple case,


With such enthusiasm, good nature, flamboyance and pleasant grace,


And serenaded you with a 1000 Decibel, sub woofer, super speaker with double bass,


Would your soul flow with overpowering emotion,


So real and so true and as huge as the ocean?


Would you feel love and passion like a shot by injection?


Or just call somebody to arrange to have me sectioned?  



Peace and mucho mucho mucho gracias,

Jah Protect


Roland Radwell – Short Unfinished Story – Critique Required – Draught Stages!

Roland Radwell sighed exuberantly as he sliced an extremely deep, yet auspiciously approximate incision into his latest patient’s throat….

‘Shit’, mouthed Roland from under his surgical mask, taking care not to worry the semi-conscious elderly man rasping desperately for dear life.

Roland lied very convincingly indeed as crimson red, syrup-like blood oozed steadily from the old man’s neck. Unsteady on his feet due to his pub lunch and few jars of ale, Roland slipped on a red patch splattering the old man’s pin striped shirt and white bed linen with thick, dark red, almost black, clotted blood.

‘Don’t worry Sir, everything is going splendidly, you’ll be back on your feet in no time!’, Barked a more panicked Roland now as droplets of sweat slowly dripped from the collar of his medical gown, gradually coagulating with the blood where the gash was made parallel to the jaw and deep into the neck, nerves and voicebox.

  ‘I ain’t reet sure lark, but I reekoon me patient has snuffed it, poor bugger!’ whimpered Roland as he rang the Skull-Man to see if he needed any more fresh skulls for his alchemy students…

‘Hello my old mate how many of em you got for me this week then?’ Coaxed the Skull-Man.

Dr Radwell was greatly disappointed with the emailed figures from his accountant. Unfortunately it appeared that a lot of Roland’s illegal patients had been having difficulty recovering having absconded from his facility.

The elderly crippled Gentleman in the chair had contacted Roland some time ago regarding a recurring sore throat he had been suffering with for Millennia.  He had specifically sought the services of a backstreet surgeon since he had no medical insurance.

At a glance of his digital clock on the dashboard of his Toyota,  Roland was rapidly brought to an alert mind-frame as an owl splattered onto his windshield with a thud, sliding slowly, stickily as the owl corpse rolled, lifeless from his bonnet and into the night-time concrete abyss.

To be Continued….

This was a quick beginning of a short story I began writing a year or so ago, and never really finished, all and any feedback appreciated, groove it groove it =)

Keep it REAL.

Groovy Green GIGANTIC Greetings from groovyscone

Hello, Hullo, Hallo, Gr00vaci0us Greetings to ALL, Great to have you here in the deliciously delectable top-secret groovy corner of the world-wide-web*!

I am Scone, a UK-based, allotment gardener, aspiring writer of fiction, dog walker, vegetarian, Cannabis enthusiast,  appreciator of music/art/fiction and nature explorer.

Interests include –  meditation, reading/writing, sustainable organic vegetable cultivation, housing solutions made with recycled materials, communes and self sufficent living, fiction, George Orwell, theology/religion/philosophy/psychology/the mind/what people believe, making things (out of rubbish where possible),  I’m out of steam now, potentially more to come…

WHY AM I DOING THIS?! – Because as I plan on writing at least a novel at some stage in my lifetime, I figure that I need to practise writing, and soak up the wonderous criticism and insults and words of encouragement and advice that the worldwideweb* has to offer, but most of all I need to practise writing with a flare and passion!

As an anti facebook internet hermit, I need a platform for my thoughts, words, topics of interest, fictional short stories, incredible veg cultivation tips and recipes, and all things groovy so I can share them with you, world ;¬)

So hopefully you might have a vague idea what kind of English Gent I am. Please follow for more enlightened ramblings

Yours Groovaciously


PS – I realise ‘appreciator’ is not technically a word.

*World Wide Web is far quicker to say than it’s acronym ‘www.’ or ‘double you, double you, double you, dot’, thus from now on you may find it beneficial to recite (in conversation) ‘’ for example, as a swift and efficient alterative to it’s lengthy, monosyllabic, supposedly time saving , extensively abbrieviated counter part!