Hi thought I would give you a taste of one of my stories in my book 'Eight bites of life' available on down load from Amazon. 

 I also have some great reviews. This story and ALL of these stories are from my mind and none are real life situations.  

Marina - See all my reviews

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This review is from: Eight Bites of life (Kindle Edition)

I loved these stories, mostly because of such varied subject matter from helping a grandchild get over anxiety to a pet rabbit who writes, from family holidays to characters in a model village coming to life at night. The stories are well paced making it an easy and enjoyable read. I look forward to reading more stories by this author. 

Robbie.

The clock struck seven, that’s not seven o’clock; it’s the seven people that happened to be passing the clock as it fell from the tower. It was reported in the daily rag, that’s not the name of the news paper but for legal reasons I can not say the ‘Ipswich Recorder’ in case they decide to sue me, who ever me is.

 After reading the front page I placed the newspaper in the bottom of Robbie’s hutch, yes Robbie, that’s Robbie the rabbit and no ‘the’ is not part of his name it’s just a connective word. Every Friday Robbie’s hutch gets cleaned out; during this process I let Robbie run around his double bedroom. Yes he has his own room and why not, rabbits have feelings too, although at this point I must say the room doubles up into my office as well. George, no he is not another rabbit, one is enough thank you, and George is a Jack Russell, that’s a dog, for all those who don’t know. Anyway, I had cleaned him out that’s the rabbit’s hutch, and left the room with a plastic bag in hand full of wet sawdust and paper. 

I had left George with Robbie as usual in the room while I took the smelly bag out to the wheelie bin, as I did not want the house smelling of rabbit doings. That’s when I heard the strange noise, at first I could not work out where it was coming from, and then I heard George bark, I looked through the window into Robbie’s room.

 Now I know you’re not going to believe me but, Robbie was on George’s back, yes I said on his back. He was riding him like a cowboy, holding on to George’s left ear with one paw as he held his right paw in the air just like he was at the rodeo. I just had to get this recorded; I reached into my back pocket and took out my mobile phone switched the camera on and got ready to record, but when I looked up all I could see was Robbie’s nose pressed against the window dead opposite my face. I stared back at him as he twitched his nose, then he lifted his right paw up to the window just showing me his middle claw and the meanest twitch of his nose you have ever seen.

 I brought the phone up to take the video but Robbie turned and reverted to acting rabbit like. I stood there for another 10 minutes waiting for him to start riding George again but nothing happened, not a thing. Feeling disappointed I went back into the house and made a cup of tea. I think I must have been seeing things; perhaps bending down to brush all the mess out of his hutch may have caused me to have a head rush that made me see things. I sat at my desk in Robbie’s room, and looked into the mirror perched in front of me I could see Robbie sitting in front of his hutch which was on the floor against the wall behind me. His nose was twitching as it always did and he was cleaning himself, ignoring me. I turned the radio on and started to write a short story for my writing clubs home work, but after a few lines I could not think what to write, I took my glasses off leaving them on my desk and lay on the sofa in the corner listening to the radio and waited for inspiration. I must have fallen asleep for when I opened my eyes all I could see was Robbie with his hind legs on my computer chair, while his front paws were tapping away on the keyboard. I couldn’t believe what was happening in front of my very eyes. 

I moved forward to try and read what he was typing the chair I was sitting in squeaked, this startled Robbie; he turned his head to see me watching him. He immediately jumped down and ran to his hutch.

 I sat back at my desk and read what Robbie had been typing, it was quite good, I knew I had not written it, because it was quite good. But how could he have done it, after all he was just a rabbit! I leaned back in my chair and thought, it was then I noticed that the blue light of the webcam was flashing at me; Robbie must have turned it on somehow. 

I viewed the video he had inadvertently made of himself, it clearly showed a rabbit typing, and he even had the cheek to wear my glasses in the video.

I turned in my chair to face his hutch, he sat there twitching his nose and stared back at me.  ‘Not so clever bunny boy’, I said as I played the video back to him. ‘I’m going to put this video on YouTube, and make lots of money’. Robbie sat down and scratched behind his left ear and said ‘ok so I can type, big deal’. I thought I was going crazy; I’m listening to a rabbit talking to me? He carried on talking ‘not only can I type, but it’s better than the rubbish you normally write,’ he said. I reminded him that I had won the Bill Budner trophy.‘YOU? Piffle, I re-wrote your story,’ said Robbie. He went on to say, ‘If you supply me with fresh dandy lions each day I will write stories for you, I am bored watching television only when you are out’.The pact was made and for the next ten years Robbie the rabbit wrote while I supplied him with fresh dandy lions. The Bill Budner trophy was won consecutively until I was barred from entering the competition, I claimed the rights to the stories that Robbie wrote. Soon scripts were being produced by Robbie for radio and television, book after book was being written by Robbie and all I had to do was reap the rewards and find a fresh supply of dandy lion leaves every day. That was until that day in June when I returned too early one day to discover Robbie choking on a dandy lion leaf, while watching Jeremy Kyle on day time television. I picked him up and gently but firmly I used the Heimlich manoeuvre on Robbie to stop him from choking, from that moment on Robbie decided to take it easy. We bought a cottage in the countryside as Robbie recovered. It was during this time he decided to take stock of his life and retire from writing; I became the only student of Robbie as he explained the tricks of his trade. I tried to emulate what Robbie had written in the past, but the writing commissions slowed down to a trickle until they stopped, the day after dear Robbie passed away.It makes me wonder how many other authors have stories written by their pets. 

By Barry Martin.