​Hello
I am Elsa Evripidou, I was born in London to a Greek Cypriot father and a Finnish mother, giving me a unique world view. After having worked as a screen writer, producer and script editor, https://monsoon-tide.com/crew/ I completed a master’s in creative writing. I have written several short stories and one general fiction novel, Dying on the Inside, which explores themes of introversion, fame and the legacy of a violent act.
Here is the opening to my forthcoming crime novel, The Unmasking, a story of a serial killer which is set in London in 1997 and features a female detective of Greek Cypriot heritage.
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From The Unmasking
Tommo claimed afterwards that he’d felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach as he went about his final checks at the fairground. His long-departed grandmother, Jacinta, had been blessed (or some might say cursed) with the gift of second sight and he believed that a sprinkling of that other-worldly ability had passed down to him. He’d experienced the same sense of foreboding before one of the cars on the big dipper had smashed Vince’s leg. Yet, as he squelched through the muddy grass on the blustery common and shone his torch around the site, he was unable to locate the source of his unease.
He checked the electrics to see if anything was still switched on and sparking, bent down on his arthritic knees looking for oil leaks, and searched for teenagers who might have gathered inside one of the rides for some underage drinking. There was nothing out of the ordinary.
It had been a quiet night on account of the storm, and everyone had packed up early. Tommo plodded around, wheezing. When he emerged from behind the protective shield of the Ghost Train, the wind whipped his cheeks, and a sudden gust sent the price sign crashing into the awning.
He trudged past the food stalls, where despite the wind, the smell of fried onions and sickly-sweet candyfloss hung heavy in the air. He looked across at the cluster of caravans. The windows of Vince’s van were steamed up, and he could detect a faint rocking motion. How a man, pushing forty, with a gold tooth and a gammy leg still managed to pull girls on a regular basis was one of life’s mysteries. Tommo hoped to God that tonight’s conquest was a bit older than last night’s girl. Despite her heavy make-up, she had looked very young. Total jailbait. Maybe that was what was bothering him? He didn’t know if he could keep the fair going without Vince.
When he approached the carousel with its faded ponies, he heard a strange sound. A tinny tune just audible above the gusts of wind. Tommo stopped still and listened closely. He turned his head and realised that it was coming from the House of Fun. At the gaudy entrance, the sound became more distinguishable. It made him think of Parisian accordion music.
‘Hello! Who’s there?’ Tommo called out as he entered the Hall of Mirrors.
He squinted, blinded by the reflections of his torchlight bouncing endlessly around the space. He aimed the beam at the ground and followed the direction of the noise. The whistling wind, the strange music and the distorted reflections set his nerves jangling. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? He stumbled in and out of the labyrinth of mirrors, his wheezing intensifying, until he found the source of the music; someone in a clown’s costume, a patched bowler hat pulled low to obscure the face, was sitting, propped up against a mirror. There was an accordion balanced on their knees and the music was coming from a CD player by their feet.
‘Move along now. Come on. Away with you’.
He nudged the figure on the shoulder, and it keeled over. As it did so, the hat fell, revealing the contorted face of young woman with hacked off hair and a bruised neck.
‘Oh Jeez, what the f…’
Tommo reached inside his pocket for his Ventolin and took in an almighty puff.
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Elsa Evripidou