Paul Gitsham - A Deadly Lesson (novella)

Dedication Welcome to the world Oscar! That’s a good strong name, I’ll have to use that one day. Lots of love, Uncle Paul XX

Prologue Prologue The rope bit deeply into her throat, the rough hemp abrading her skin. The surprise of the attack left her with no time to make more than a strangled gasp. She grabbed the rope, desperately tugging at it, but it was no use. Try as she might, she couldn’t loosen it. By now, her vision was starting to fade, pinpricks of light exploding in front of her eyes like tiny supernovae in the night sky . Giving up on the rope, she groped blindly across the desk, her flailing hand knocking a pot of stationery over. Picking up a pencil, she struck out wildly over her shoulder, hoping to catch her assailant somewhere significant. A muffled grunt suggested that she might have struck something delicate, but there was no let-up on the pressure on her throat . Abandoning the pencil, she continued her desperate search. By now the only sound she could hear was the loud booming of her heart. Her vision had shrunk to a tiny tunnel and so she identified the stapler by touch rather than sight. Lifting it, she flipped it open, like she had a million times before. Was it even loaded? Too late to worry about that now, the whole world had turned black. She lifted the stapler, seeking her attacker’s hand. All she needed was a few seconds’ respite. Just a few seconds to fill her lungs with air. Just a few seconds…

Day One

Day Two

Day Three

Day Four

Day Five

Day Six

Acknowledgements

Dear Reader

Backads

About the Publisher

Welcome to the world Oscar!

That’s a good strong name, I’ll have to use that one day.

Lots of love, Uncle Paul XX

Prologue Prologue Prologue The rope bit deeply into her throat, the rough hemp abrading her skin. The surprise of the attack left her with no time to make more than a strangled gasp. She grabbed the rope, desperately tugging at it, but it was no use. Try as she might, she couldn’t loosen it. By now, her vision was starting to fade, pinpricks of light exploding in front of her eyes like tiny supernovae in the night sky . Giving up on the rope, she groped blindly across the desk, her flailing hand knocking a pot of stationery over. Picking up a pencil, she struck out wildly over her shoulder, hoping to catch her assailant somewhere significant. A muffled grunt suggested that she might have struck something delicate, but there was no let-up on the pressure on her throat . Abandoning the pencil, she continued her desperate search. By now the only sound she could hear was the loud booming of her heart. Her vision had shrunk to a tiny tunnel and so she identified the stapler by touch rather than sight. Lifting it, she flipped it open, like she had a million times before. Was it even loaded? Too late to worry about that now, the whole world had turned black. She lifted the stapler, seeking her attacker’s hand. All she needed was a few seconds’ respite. Just a few seconds to fill her lungs with air. Just a few seconds… Day One Day Two Day Three Day Four Day Five Day Six Acknowledgements Dear Reader Backads About the Publisher

The rope bit deeply into her throat, the rough hemp abrading her skin. The surprise of the attack left her with no time to make more than a strangled gasp. She grabbed the rope, desperately tugging at it, but it was no use. Try as she might, she couldn’t loosen it. By now, her vision was starting to fade, pinpricks of light exploding in front of her eyes like tiny supernovae in the night sky .

Giving up on the rope, she groped blindly across the desk, her flailing hand knocking a pot of stationery over. Picking up a pencil, she struck out wildly over her shoulder, hoping to catch her assailant somewhere significant. A muffled grunt suggested that she might have struck something delicate, but there was no let-up on the pressure on her throat .

Abandoning the pencil, she continued her desperate search. By now the only sound she could hear was the loud booming of her heart. Her vision had shrunk to a tiny tunnel and so she identified the stapler by touch rather than sight. Lifting it, she flipped it open, like she had a million times before. Was it even loaded? Too late to worry about that now, the whole world had turned black. She lifted the stapler, seeking her attacker’s hand. All she needed was a few seconds’ respite. Just a few seconds to fill her lungs with air. Just a few seconds…

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