Official Website of Author 

Kisses from the Sun

and other stories

In Stores Now

TO FIND OUT  MORE AND TO BE ABLE TO READ THE FIRST STORY FREE ON AMAZON, CLICK ON LINK ABOVE and then "LOOK INSIDE"

NB: Also available on Amazon.com

and worldwide

My Story
C.G.Harris
C.G.Harris photo.jpg

Hi,

My full name is Christopher George Harris - but Chris is how I am known to all.  I live in Kent, England, UK and have a wife, two daughters, three grandchildren, a cat and a dog.

 

I love reading and writing but these are not the only things that take up my time :- I enjoy drawing, juggling, playing the guitar and ukulele (but not all at the same time), and I coach track and field athletes, a number of whom have competed at National and International level.

I am a member of the Sidcup -based (England) writing group, "Ten Green Jotters",  who meet regularly to discuss our literary work and we produced an anthology of stories in 2019 called Literary AllShorts also available on Amazon. 

The world has produced amazing authors, both historic and contemporary figures, and reading has brought pleasure and escapism to millions - if I can, in turn, give some pleasure to readers of my own stories that would make me a very happy writer.

 

I particularly like the short story form (although I am currently writing my first novel Billy's Band) and am inspired by such masters as W. Somerset Maugham, Saki, O. Henry and many others who can not only characterise but make you want to turn the page and who will, quite often, surprise you with an ending. They will often leave you moved, or make you think.

Such is my desire. Happy reading to you all.

 

 
My Books

Light and Dark

21 short stories

cover 2nd draft.jpg

Kisses from the Sun

and other stories

Billy's Band - novel out in 2021

 
REVIEWS
LIGHT AND DARK - 21 short stories
 

By Breakaway Reviewers- Review on their site and on Amazon:

"It will make you laugh, cry and scared"

11 January 2018

Format: Kindle Edition:

A mixed bag of stories from a possible murder on a cruise, a ghost story to a Russian who would do anything for his country.

This book of 21 stories is well worth a read, well written and each story is well thought out. The thing I specifically like is each story has a proper ending. So many authors think it is a good idea to keep the reader hanging which is so annoying!!! C.G Harris doesn’t do this and it’s fab!

Each story is very different and as the book has only 99 pages it is a good quick afternoon with a cup of tea and a biscuit read.

Well worth an hour and a digestive biscuit.

Shesat.

Breakaway Reviewers received a copy of the book to review

preview of new novel: Billy's Band 

Billy’s Band - A Novel by C. G Harris

 

Prologue

 

"And so the conversation turned, until the sun went down....."

Keep Feeling Fascination - The Human League 1983

I remember the wind was blowing very hard the last time I saw Billy.

 

When I think of him, looking back, I can see his cod philosophy for what it was, but that doesn’t matter to me. He was a fine drummer, more than fine, and when you can write songs that make you think and hit those skins so you do not need to think, only to feel, what did it matter what words were spoken between gigs?

 

Of course, it did matter, to me. It mattered to all of us to some degree, but mostly to me. Every pack needs a leader, even a pack such as we, a rock band with eclectic taste and questionable musical talent; a band that began with nothing and ended up with pretty much the same but made an insightful journey together none the less. Billy led the pack and we followed, not always without question, but steadfastly at least.

 

When last I stood here, near twenty years past, light pollution was not an issue. From this high point, I could follow the street lights that stretched north towards the Elephant and Castle and still make out, just, stars that glimmered above.  Now, after removing the window grime, I find that fourteen floors is not high enough. The savannah of orange neon spreading outwards diffuses the darkness and I think that I would struggle to find even one point of natural light in the evening sky.

 

It is cold here, as it was, as it always will be, in concrete stairwells; the chill comes from the tiles, from the gloss black metal hand rails, from the emptiness and hollowness that pervades such places. Even so, laughter was heard here in this twilight space, on occasion, and I do recall that it was sometimes pleasurable, but often harsh, created by disparate youths that hung together like insects on fly paper - these gangs then unstuck themselves and separated at the last knockings to head for home. I do not know whether such gangs still frequent this place, but I remember how it was.

 

I can still feel a coldness. I often wondered how that wind found its way, but it used to funnel from below to chill us, even in the summer. The movement of it often harmonised with the sound it made outside the lengthened panes; you would expect it to be melancholy at this height, and it was. Like I said - that wind was blowing very hard the last time I saw Billy.

 

Right now, I take my time turning from the window because I know what my eyes will see, and full well where they will rest. There is one landing with two sets of stairs, one leading up and the other down, ten steps to each, and it is all very symmetrical and orderly. The thing is, I can say to myself “Don’t look at those steps,” but that is the same as saying “Don’t think of pink elephants,” and so, yes, I DO look at the two bottom steps. Then again, why shouldn’t I? They look the same as the others, don’t they? Well, they do now, of course they do, because the red stains have long been washed away; some bloodied and wretched council worker would have scrubbed and scrubbed so now there is not a mark left, not a sign, not one sign, of what went before… except here in my thoughts. I wish I could scrub the memories away as thoroughly as those red stains, but they have not been erased as neatly, nor as swiftly as the years that have passed.

 

Yes, when Billy died here the wind blew hard and fast, but we ran faster; it’s taken two decades, but I am back.

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