Dr. Verity Drood
Very little is known about Dr. Verity Drood.
She suffered some sort of facial disfigurement that caused her to withdraw from society.
Most of her time is spent locked away writing.
On occasion she also laments for lovers lost.
Verity is represented by David R. Roberts who handles all her affairs and is her only point of contact with the outside world .
Books by Verity
The Secrets of Clayfields
The coastal town of Clayfields holds many secrets.
In the attic of a ramshaclkle house on the edge of town Alyssa’s only companions are a stuffed toy called Mr Deadeye and shrouded figure called the Keeper. She believes outside the world is populated by trolls and goblins and all sorts of monsters.
This is not true.
Mad thinks the Keeper is a witch because that’s what the other children say.
This is also not true.
When the two girls are brought together, they find the truth is a lot stranger than either of them imagined and will lead them into the very jaws of danger.
A gothic mystery-fantasy for disturbed children and adults.
Available in serialised form on the Radish.
Visit www.radishfiction.com to download the app.
Shorts & Poetry
The Gun Powder Plot 2000 A.D.
Featured in the superhero anthology "No More Heroes" a collection of stories set in a world where all the great Superheroes and Villains have been wiped out in a cataclysm leaving the lesser villians to take over.
The Gunpowder Plot 2000 A.D. is set in London where a group of the villians plan to blow up parliament unless somebody can stop them.
David has two pieces in The Strand Book of International Poets 2010 available to buy from Amazon.
Alternatively you can read them for free below!
But I’ve sat and I’m cold and the girl never comes,
And though hope hasn’t died my feet have gone numb.
And we will dance all night in the evergreen forest,
Making our path through the untrodden snow,
Until we rest and kiss for eternity,
Entwined underneath the kind mistletoe.
The snow dances down in a silent ballet,
My heartbeat rises to a much quicker pace.
I dream that each fragile flake that lays on me,
Is a delicate kiss on my face.
I sit on white, with black above,
While glittering lights shine all around,
And time passes by but my smile never fades,
Sure that her footprints will soon mark the ground.
I sit on clouds, unspoiled and deep,
And gaze at evergreen branches above.
I sit and wait under starry nights glow,
To see the radiant face of my love.
In my state of ruptured thought,
I look away from what I know,
And shed the tears of endless time,
This knowledge fills my heart with woe.
It stabs my heart, it drags it deep,
To know of this and yet be dumb.
My fingers itch with nameless dread.
This black/white vision turns me numb.
You will of course know of this fear,
Though minds pinpoint swings back and forth.
Distraction is our little game
Till we forget this black/white thought.