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The Frog's Pad Collection

The Frog's Pad Collection

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The Frog's Pad Collection

65 página
56 minutos
Aug 10, 2011


A digest collection of short stories written by the author for the readers enjoyment, but also as an introduction to the first two novels in his "Black Crane" collection (available through Kindle and in hard copy).

The intention of this collection is also to provide an inspiration that anyone can write a book if they challenge themselves.

Aug 10, 2011

Sobre el autor

I take my inspiration from the world around me and then use that creatively to write short stories - or build Lego vignettes. i like to encourage others to make the best of their opportunities - and to look for the half full glass.

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The Frog's Pad Collection - David Grewcock

The Frog’s Pad Collection

By David Grewcock

The Frog’s Pad Collection

David Grewcock

Copyright 2010 by David Grewcock

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Statement 

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

About this collection

I think we can all be inspired from a variety of sources and ideas; this small collection of short stories I think is a good example of that. It may be a view, a situation or a conversation.

I hope you enjoy this collection. The last two stories are the first chapters from my Black Crane novels.



Mermaid’s Song

Generation Zero

The Tomb of Tut-Ankh-Ra



The Walnut Box

Colin the Rabbit

The Floods of London (Chapter 1)

The Navigation Watch (Chapter 1)


The question in this story is one of free will; if you know that your life is dependent upon you living someone else’s life to enable you to exist – what would you do?

Circus, here next week.

The poster, hurriedly stuck to a piece of cardboard and hung round the traffic light already looked as if it had been there for months, but Rowan noted it had only appeared overnight. Rowan continued her daily walk, passing the field where the circus traditionally set up. The field, normally left fallow, already looked empty as if it was waiting for the magic to appear.

Later that evening, Rowan sat in the pub as the youth group leaders discussed how the evening had gone. The usual discussions about the same young people and their various behavioural problems – and who should take the responsibility for dealing with it. Rowan listened distractedly – frustrated that everyone was prepared to point the finger, but not to actually deal with the issues. During the lull in the conversations, Rowan took the opportunity to tell the team about the circus – and whether it was something that the youth group would enjoy going to. The response was apathetic, so Rowan quietly withdrew once more to staring at her glass. If James had thought of it, she mused to herself, everyone would have jumped to it – but I’ll go along anyway without them.

A week passed – and the poster hung limply to the traffic light; already the faded, peeling poster was clinging to the sodden cardboard, depending upon its support and existence. The effect of the poster brought a dark mystery to the circus, shading to the smiling circus clown of dark intention. Now, Rowan noted, the field was occupied by the traditional striped canvas of the Big Top. Although clean, the ambience was of the theatre in the day time – the mystery that comes alive in the dancing beams of the spotlights revealed to be the old, battered and used props of constant touring and production.

Outside of the Big top a few fairground rides were also being set up, the red and yellow paint, so gaily decorating the woodwork when it was originally commissioned now looked like the big tent – a mother and her children, a travelling family with the other members of the circus.

Rowan decided to go that evening. It was a night out and apart from the cats for company she didn’t have many friends that she could call upon. Nobody phoned her to invite her out and sometimes the darkness of her life overwhelmed her, but most times she just took life as it came to her – and that was just fine.

As she walked onto the field she recognised that with darkness now descended the bright beams of the spotlights and the coloured lights that surrounded the attractions changed the scene to something warm, magical and timeless. Shadows played upon the corners of the Big Top, encouraged by the entertainers as they strolled around on stilts or juggled various batons, clubs and knives. As approached the tent she could hear the music and the Ringmaster calling everyone to take their seats.

Rowan walked towards the door and was about to pay for her tickets when to the left a cloaked figure spoke to her…

Rowan – come with me.

Rowan stopped and looked

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