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More or less, C.A. Hannan is a writer. The ‘more’ is that he writes every day, usually from the hours of six to eight when he’s back from his day job, though sometimes he takes Sundays off. The ‘less’ is that he doesn’t really have the professional part down to a tee. He’s had two short stories published by Ellipsis, but he doesn’t have an agent or a book deal with a publisher, wink wink, nudge nudge.


This is the first chapter of Heart of My Enemy. I shall refrain from giving too much away about the rest of the piece because this chapter will pose questions that shall be answered throughout the rest of the manuscript. However, I am a person who cannot resist a tagline: How did you survive the Millennium Bug?

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Dad told me that if I ever saw a man in uniform I should run back to our basement. 

    The soldier was only five feet ahead of me, silhouetted under the light of a single street lamp. His smoking gun pointed at the stars. 

    I turned. My foot caught the lip of the pavement and I almost twisted my ankle, but I couldn’t let him get me after curfew. I had to run. I bolted across the road. 

    The smash of another gunshot knocked the wind out of my lungs. 

    I stopped running.

    ‘Come here,’ he shouted as loud as a horn.

    My feet wouldn’t move.

    The loaf of bread in my hands seemed more trouble than it was worth, but Dad would still be hungry. I was still hungry. I unwrapped my scarf, bundled the loaf inside it and shoved it under my coat. My neck and face were cold, but at least the soldier couldn’t accuse me of theft. 

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