Posted in Blogging, care, Daniel McTavish, day 13, fictional vignette, July, the real McTavish, word a day

July Blogging Challenge – Word a Day

Day 13 – Care

Going to do another fictional vignette for this word.  Enjoy.  This is Daniel McTavish and his thoughts.  

Thoughts from The Real McTavish


Take care of it.  That was always what I promised the boss.  That I’d take care of whatever was necessary.  No job was too hard for me.  Or too easy.  I remember one particular job.  There’d been a betrayal within the family.  A rat.  Rats were exterminated, there was no other recourse for traitors.  
A bullet to the brain was all that was necessary.  And I did it, easily enough.  It was the aftermath that wasn’t so pretty.  Unexpected but I actually felt a hint of guilt.  I brushed it off, though…it wasn’t anything… Or at least that was what I made myself believe back then.  Now in hindsight I know that it was the beginning of the end.  It took a whole year of subterfuge to keep Mickey off my back….and then the hit on the Boss….well…that’s a whole other story…
Suffice to say that the capacity I have to care is a whole lot different these days.  Tyson would tell you – Tyson’s a street kid that I got off the streets – he would tell you that I’m a changed man.  But, I don’t think that’s the entire truth.  I’m still me…except now…well, I have God in my life.  And that explains a lot more than needs to be said.  Though, Mickey doesn’t know.  Colleen made me promise never to contact any of them again…back when we were still together.  She didn’t know….about her father.   Then.  Not until a…well, like I said, that’s a whole other story.  
Anyway… That’s all I have to say…gotta go catch Cath before she leaves.  

Posted in Daniel McTavish, fiction, first person pov, my writing

The Uprising – Chapter Three – Wish

I asked Melissa if she could shuffle my schedule around. Told her there was somebody I needed to see. I could see the questions in her eyes, but was grateful she didn’t pry. Though, I could’ve told her…she knew Elliott after all.

Everyone knew him. The quiet, ruthless guy who got the job done.

I know I’ve spoken about him before. But, there is this thing you need to understand about Elliott. He was always where I needed him to be. In the down times, in the times of celebration. Just there. Like some kind of shadow. Even when I least expected him to be available. Even when it would’ve been better for him if he wasn’t around.

But, coming back to what Lachlan said to me, ‘trust your instincts; those words were churning around my mind, and giving me a headache. I needed to deal with it.

Being honest with myself was a start, right? The system angered me. The law made me despondent for the future prospects of my home. None of it made any real sense; the ban on any form of music. It was a sad state of affairs, considering almost everyone had forgotten the reasons behind the ban. Except for Elliott…he remembered.

“Elliott?” He was down in the cafeteria for a change, sans firearms and making short work of a couple of sandwiches.

He glanced up on hearing my voice, putting down the sandwich that was half eaten already. He must’ve seen something on my face, because instead of making some wisecrack he stood and tugged me into a hard embrace.

“I’m okay…” I said, “They haven’t…”

Elliott released me, brow furrowing as he said, “They’re going to. Then where will you be?”

I sighed, taking the seat next to him. “He has to face the consequences of his actions.”

“You don’t agree with that.”

I twisted my lips. “Everyone’s assuming that, lately.”

“You don’t. I know you.” His pointed look was too close.

Sighing, I leaned back on the chair. “Lachlan said much the same.” I looked sideways at him. “He hasn’t done anything that warrants execution.”

Elliott nodded as he took a swig of his beer. “So, what’s the deal then?”

I started shaking my head; the scowl he sent my way gave me pause, the seed of a thought planted in my mind. I didn’t know whether I wanted to put words to it, though. It was dangerous thinking. But, I couldn’t deal with Lachlan’s execution. And if I could do something about it…

Who was I kidding? I was down here, seeing Elliott, for a reason. Apart from him being the main bounty hunter in the City, he also had a few other tricks up his sleeve. Working under the radar was the norm for him, and the City turned a blind eye. That could work for me.

“By the way, thanks for ditching me,” Elliott said, drawing my attention back to him.


He picked at the cheese on his plate. “I had to deal with the idiots on my own. Pips was out of it.”

Right. His brother. Crap, I was meant to be there for him. Though I figured I could be excused, since I had Lachlan to worry about. I murmured an apology. He waved me off.

“Come over and buy us drinks,” he said, with a flash of teeth.

My lips twitched, because it was so like him to think that was a good way to apologise for something. He never asked for much. Gave a lot. Considering his profession maybe that wasn’t so surprising.

Elliott said, “You have a break, right?”

“Let me check with Melissa.”

Elliott, laughing, said, “She’s not your mother, Danny. Just come over.”

I nodded. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah. So, what’re you going to do about Lachie?”

Turning away from him, I scanned the cafeteria, noting that we were the only people present. In hindsight, Elliott must have chosen this particular time to be down here. No one else around to hear us. And, he had the patience of a saint. I knew he’d wait me out, no matter how long it took for me to get my head in the game. Which, if I was being honest with myself, was only a matter of flicking a switch in my mind.

Easier said than done, though.

Being part of The Creed since my teens, I had a lot of stuff ingrained in me that even if I stopped agreeing with it, forcing myself to act in contradiction to my training would be difficult.

“I’m not one to defy the status quo,” I said, breaking the quiet that started setting in. Elliott’s answering snort set me on edge. “Elliott. I’m really not.”

Elliott’s eyebrows twitched. “If that’s the case, Tav, you should get up and walk away.”

I didn’t move, instead pulled out my phone to switch it off, coming to a decision. “I need you.”

I think if I was the type to make wishes, now would be the time that a wish was granted. In hindsight, Elliott had probably been waiting a long time for me to get to this point. To come see him, and admit that there was something fundamentally wrong with our situation.

Becoming the T-One…that was a huge thing for me; maybe more so, considering that placed a lot of power in my hands and the ability to change things. Even with all the risks involved…

Elliott tilted his head, brows furrowed. “Tell me.”

Posted in Daniel McTavish, fiction

The Real McTavish – Chapter 1 – Pull the Other One


December 2014
“Alex called.”
I blink at Daniel who’s leaning against the back of the couch, grinning from ear-to-ear.  “Alex?”
“Yeah.  He says he will look at the script.” 
He’s not making any sense, until I realise who he’s talking about.  And then I continue staring at him.  He laughs low.
“Alex O’Loughlin is going to look at the role.” 
Putting my pen down, I look at him.  “Pull the other one.”
Daniel smiles, and says, “I booked a flight to Hawaii tomorrow evening.  You’re coming with me.” 
My brain just stops for a second, then I shake my head from side to side, trying to let that sink in.  Hawaii.  Tomorrow.  To see…I stop the thought right there, frowning at him.
“I can’t just go to Hawaii with you.”
Daniel lifts an eyebrow.  “No?  You’re not currently working.  You’re my writer.  And, you deserve a holiday.”
That last is truer than I let on.  After losing my job, I’m kind of at a loss.  The other stuff, not so true.  I’m not Daniel’s anything.  We’re just friends.  He wasmarried.  But, the strain of his past caught up with them both.  Anyway…
“Well, I’ll concede the last thing.”
He smirks at me.  “I knew you would.”  He tosses a brochure at me.  “We’ll have some time for sightseeing.  Oh, and Alex said he can get us a meet and greet with the cast of Five-0.”  This last he says with a cheeky grin and a wink, before turning to walk out of the room. 
I yell after him.  “You’re evil, Daniel!”
His face reappears for a second as he says, “You love me, Cath.”
I wave him away, returning to my journaling; his soft chuckle making my cheeks warm. 
                                                            * * *
Daniel McTavish.  What do I tell you about this man?  He’s loving, kind, compassionate.  Generous to a fault.  Sure, he has his moments.  Everyone does.  But, I like to see the good in everyone.  Maybe that’s a problem?  I don’t know.  Some people would like to remind me of the shocking things that he did in his past.  But, that’s the point.  It’s history.  He doesn’t do those things anymore. 
Which I tend to point out a lot.  Daniel just tells me not to bother.  The people who matter don’t care about his past and he thinks I shouldn’t worry over it.  But, I get defensive in spite of that. 
You shouldn’t judge a person who’s changed.  Yes.  He was an assassin.  Yes.  He killed people.  But, he gave that all away.  He helps save people now.  I mean, come on.  People can change. 
But, you know.  People will always go, ‘Cath, he killed innocent people.  How can you defend someone like him?  How do you know he won’t go and do it again?’  Seriously, it scares me the prejudices some people hold. 
I guess this is the reason he wants to make a film about his life.  To set the record straight. 
Speaking of which, I should be packing.  But, Daniel isn’t making it easy.  He’s in my walk-in-robe throwing clothes at me and trying to tell me why I should take them with me.
“Cath, this’ll be cool.  You won’t sweat in this.”  Like, thanks…but you’re the one who sweats a lot, Daniel. 
He looks around the door at me, eyebrow twitching.  “Shake a leg.”
I roll my eyes.  “Maybe I should just pack my whole ‘robe, Danny?  Save you the trouble.”
He laughs and disappears again. 
I get up and poke my head around the door.  Daniel is holding two dresses in his hands, frowning.  One is a long black, loose-fitting get up; the other a floral affair. 
“Not your taste, Danny?”
He looks back at me.  “I’ve never seen you wear these.”
I snort.  “Pack them then, and I’ll wear them when we meet Alex.”
He laughs, replacing them on the rack.  “Nah.  Not you.” 
I smile a little.  Should it worry me that he knows me so well?  I’m not the dress type.  Pair of jeans and a t-shirt is more my thing.  But, maybe I should take something a little formal. 
Daniel brushes passed me.  “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”
Or maybe not.  

Posted in Daniel McTavish, my muses


“My life was a series of routines and rituals.  I always had my coffee from a chipped beer glass with one sugar cube.  Always scalded the tip of my tongue.  Then I’d read the sports’ section of the Herald Sun from back to front.

I’d pass the paper on to old Mr Hunter who lived in the apartment opposite mine.  He knew what I was but he was always telling me how he’d been on covert ops in the Great War.  Never knew if he was telling the truth.  Guess he thought the same of me.

Then it was on to the gym on Providence Street and then the office.

The office wasn’t much.  Just an old weatherboard that sat facing backwards on a tiny block right in the heart of town.  And, that’s where I waited for whatever job came my way.

It’s hard to fathom how many jobs I carried out, but it all came to a head when I met Colleen.  Her father was my final job.

That ruined me.”

Posted in Daniel McTavish, fiction, the real McTavish

The Real McTavish – Master post

A new idea, featuring McTavish as he originally came to me.  An experiment that will feature Alex O’Louglin but will focus on McTavish.

The first time I met Daniel McTavish was at my church about a year ago.  His story is amazing.  Unbelievable.  But, a true story.  And a testament to the fact that God can change the hearts of people in the most profound way.  

He was a hit man for the Irish Mafia, killed a lot of people on the orders of his Boss.  

He approached me about writing his story, after he’d joined the worship team and we’d gotten to know each other a little better.  I accepted, how could I not?  But, now he wants his story turned into a film.  Not for any monetary gain, but to spread the story so it can help others.  A good idea, I guess…and he says he knows who he wants to be in the film.  

I’m not sure who he could get, but he says he has the connections.  So, I trust him, though there is only one person I could see portraying him…

Chapter 1 – Pull the Other One
Posted in 2014, Daniel McTavish, fiction, first person pov, my writing

The Uprising – revamped version 1 – Ch 1


The only thing on my mind right now:  How to spell Taskerone?  It used to be Tasker One.  They changed it in the early noughties to reflect the pronunciation.  I’m not sure what difference it made.  Didn’t make any difference to me as I waited to be conferred with the title.  But the thought kept me sane. 
To say I was nervous, would be some gross understatement.  Youngest T-One to ever be conferred.  The media were all over that.  Gut-wrenching to say the least.  Flashing lights and voices everywhere trying to gain my attention.  All I wanted to do was bolt and meet my best mate for a beer.  Though Elliott would be elsewhere, checking his armoury. 
My assistant, Melissa, was giving me the eye, indicating that I was not paying enough attention. 
“Commander McTavish?”
Blinking, I fought to find the owner of the voice.  Horn rimmed glasses shoving a furry microphone in my face.  That galvanised me.  Stay outta my canoe. People don’t get in my personal space.  It’s kind of a thing that is quick to set me off. 
“Yes?” Less annoyed, Tav… “I apologise, can you ask that again?”
“Prisoner seventy-seven, Commander.  What are your plans for him?”
The question was inoffensive.  I knew that.  Everyone knew that.  Lachlan Douglas was a threat to the order.  The General himself decreed it so.  I agreed.  I don’t agree…Lachlan is a childhood friend…
Forcing a smile, I said, “I will need to review his case before making a final decision.”  I caught Melissa’s eye again, and this time her gaze was somewhat approving.  One point for the new Commander. 
There was some general questions about the new structure of Council and bringing in a new curfew. It was all quite tedious and I made my escape when it was polite to do so. 
Melissa joined me out in the corridor, walking with me. 
“That went better than I thought it would, Commander.”
I reminded myself that she was the General’s daughter, counted to ten then looked sideways at her.  “It’s Daniel.”
She remained tight-lipped as she said, “The General will speak with you about Prisoner seventy-seven’s sentencing this afternoon, Commander.”
“You know you look pretty when you smile, Melissa.” I know.  Not the smartest thing to say.  She just glared at me. 
“Your friend also wanted to see you once the conferring ceremony was over.”
I sighed, thanking her with a nod and left, making my way to find Elliott.  
He was where he always was.  My room.  Bottles of beer littering the bed.  Along with his assorted firearms.  He was in the middle of cleaning his prized possession.  A sawn-off shot gun.  Ancient piece of junk.  But it still worked.  I’d seen him fire it on the range. 
He looked up.  His eyes were blood-shot.  That was some cause for concern. 
“You right?”
Elliott set the gun down, squinting at me.  “Are you?”
Lifting my eyebrows I think was enough of an answer to last him a while.  Though I was far from all right.  Who knew what the General would say about Lachlan.  And who the Hell knew why I even gave a flying rats…
I took one of the unopened beers before parking my ass opposite him.  He continued to stare at me through his slitted eyelids before letting out a groan, which kind of sounded like somebody’s name.  But I wasn’t too sure.
“Come again, mate?”
“Pips.  Gotta pick him up.”
His brother; Pips Preston.  Or Phillip as I called him, just to annoy him. No one else called him that.  I’m guessing his parents used to.  But, they’re not in the picture anymore.
That’s another thing.  I’m crazy about names.  Proper names.  Weird names.  Hobby of mine.  Collecting names.  Should probably put that to better use, though.  Like remembering the names of all my subordinates at The Creed.  Melissa is the only one that comes to mind…
“Didn’t know he was due for release?”
Pips was a career criminal.  Surprising they were letting him go, considering he attempted to blow up Council Hall.  Insane, right?  He said it was to make a point.  Not sure I understood what his point was.  He was passionate about it, whatever it was. 
Elliott looked at me, eyebrows lifting.  “No?  Would’ve thought they’d tell you that.”
I shook my head, though I might’ve been told…probably not paying attention. 
He shrugged at me before returning to his shotgun running an oiled cloth over the barrel.  I sat, watching him in silence, and sipping from my beer. 
We spent a lot of time like this.  It was comfortable.  Talking wasn’t something I was known for.  And, Elliott always took his cues from me.  It didn’t serve any purpose, we just felt content in each other’s’ company.   Been that way since high school.  Yeah, we’ve known each other that long. 
It was odd.  No one approved of Elliott Preston. Especially not now.  He was a bounty hunter.  Law unto his own.  My best friend.  Beer buddy.  Not to make light of our relationship, we’re there for each other.  And, I guess this was another of those times.
“Want me to come with?” I said, causing Elliott to shoot a surprised look my way.
I lifted my shoulders, tilting my beer and watching as the golden liquid swirled in the bottom.  “Need to go down there anyway.” 
He set the gun down and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his thighs.  He said nothing though, just furrowed his brow at me.  I let my lips twist into a smile.  He huffed, his fringe flipping up a little. 
“Knock yourself out, buddy.” 

Finishing off my beer, I murmured that I’d do exactly that, before leaning my head back against the wall and closing my eyes.
Posted in Christmas, Daniel McTavish, my muses, my writing, thoughts on Christmas

What Does Christmas Mean to Me? – McTavish’s thoughts

Daniel McTavish – A/N This is McTavish as he originally came to me, long before he became the narrator of The Uprising.  This McTavish is a former assassin, come youth pastor and in essence is the REAL Daniel McTavish.  My number one muse.

“Christmas? Hmmm, I’ve never really talked about what this season means to me.  I didn’t celebrate as a kid. Well, I didn’t celebrate the real thing. Didn’t believe in it. We did presents and the tree and a lot of eating.  My parents were the devout ones.

I became a Christian later in life.  Though I was raised by good Catholic parents.  They’d be mortified by what I became in life, though.  At least when I was younger.

Not sure they’d be particularly enamoured by my current profession either.  They’re traditionalists.  Go to mass every Saturday evening… I pastor youth at a large contemporary church.  Not their thing really.  But, I’m digressing aren’t I?

Christmas means to me?  Community.  Love.  Joy.  A lot of things that I lost over the years and had to regain.  And, redemption.  Or at least the promise of redemption.  I mean, the coming of Jesus as a man into our midst?  That’s a big thing.  And the fact that He came to save someone like me?

Mind blowing.

I don’t deserve that.  But, that’s another thing, right?  Christmas is a time for joy not for reliving the terrible things I’ve done…

So, yeah.  That’s Christmas to me.”

Posted in 2014, Daniel McTavish, fiction, first person pov, my writing, Writing

The Uprising – revamped version 1 – Prologue



Today is the tenth anniversary of our debut record.  
Legacy was a labour of love.  A lot of blood, sweat and tears, literally, was poured into the album.  And, I’m proud of what it has brought into my life and the lives of others.  It’s been a journey; from its conception to where we are today. 
It’s not been easy.  Changing the mindset of a society is difficult.  And, to think on it, I didn’t initially set out to change things.  My ideas weren’t so grandiose back when I was younger.  I was fed up with the status quo.  But, all I wanted was to bring a sense of joy back into my home. 
And music. 
Music.  Music is life’s blood.  Cliché, maybe?  But, something I believe holds true. 
A lot of people didn’t think that forty years ago…

It’s a strain, trying to get people to see where we went wrong with the laws and mores.  I’m seeing a shrink, that’s how bad it can get some days.  
The good doctor said I should write everything down.  A bit cliché, if you ask me.  I’ve read memoirs before.  Always so, dry, factual.  Not worth for anything but some dusty museum.  Though even those places are becoming extinct. 
I’m not much of a writer.  Sure, I’ve written reports.  Signed off on more than I care to remember.  I’m more an actions type of man.  Rather be doing than writing.
No, that kid, Robbie Douglas.  He’d have been the better choice.  Always scribbling away in a notebook whenever he got the chance.  I may still have them.  His notebooks.  Lachlan gave them to me for safekeeping.  That whole family…are almost my own.
But, I’m getting ahead of myself.  A story isn’t any good from the end.  Knowing only the ending doesn’t explain anything.  I learned that just by living in Valoren City. 
The walled city.  Valoren city of my father and my father’s father before that.  Not sure how many generations of McTavish’s served in this city.  Since the War of Words most definitely.  That long ago event that no one really remembers but caused a lot of unnecessary heartache in my day. 
I’ll be the last, though. 
The Creed’s being dismantled.  Gordon said that a regular police force is what the city needs.  One that actually holds justice of high import and not just the enforcing of rules.  I’m content with that idea.  Means I can relax.  Just keep an eye on the kids.
Hah.  Danny McTavish.  Babysitter.  Well, Granddaddy.  My daughter just had twins.  Boys.  Robert and Phil.  She named them in remembrance of the two toughest people we’ve ever known.  This is as much their story as it is mine.
I guess, I should really start from the beginning then.  Since I espoused that endings didn’t explain anything.  Not without beginnings. 
Everyone has a beginning to their story.  And, I don’t mean their birth.  Though that’s an important date. 
My beginning was an auspicious day.  Or it should’ve been. 

Two things happened to change that, and you could say that society has improved a lot since then.