All posts by Vivika Widow

Author, blogger and founder of the Ragdolls UK foundation who support children and young adults suffering from genetic disorders. Visit www.vivikawidow.com for more info

Coming 2021

Dennis, a prostitute selling conman, is forced to look back on his life when an attack leaves him with little life left to spare. Addressing his sordid past, he asks himself, ‘how far must a man fall before the climb back up becomes too steep?’

Dennis’ past haunts him

Can you ever truly be saved? A cult deprogrammer, a despicable crook and a war criminal ask themselves as the Wigan Church of Hathfield Bay draw their attention.

Chloe comforts Dennis after his ordeal.

Coming 2021, from the Author of MAESTRO ; MUSE and HARBOUR HOUSE , step outside the Knock Knock club and head on over to Hathfield Bay Island for a nail biting, knuckle whiting , full in your face exciting glimpse into the lowest depths of humanity.

“If you think I’m the worst that’s out there then you ain’t seen nothing …”

Check out Knock Knock club manager Dennis. Last seen at the Penn Auction House having a chat with the Penn triplets …

My Life Changing Event

We all have those moments in life where we are taken on a completely different path. Some life events have the potential to change our points of view and some have the opportunity to wipe us out completely.

With everything going on in the world at the moment it makes me nostalgic. Thinking back I take time to consider those life changing moments. For me it was when I was aged twelve and I was just starting my second year of high school. As per usual I had arrived late and the first session was P.E. Across the road from my high school were playing fields where most of the outdoor classes were held. The few other stragglers and I got dressed into our kits and headed across. Between the school and the playing fields is a very busy road. Already a little shaken by the speed of the traffic and anxious that I was already late I crossed the road and was (perhaps inevitably) knocked down.

I spent months in the hospital recovering from the injuries, watching the opening game of the 1998 World Cup from my bed. Even to this day I don’t remember what happened. All I can go on was the stories told by my family as they were given the news and my school mates who were there to witness the event. The point is that when I came round some weeks later I was in a strange hospital with absolutely no clue as to how I got there. It was strange to not recognise the hospital because as a youngster I had pretty much toured all the medical facilities of the city.

As I recovered I was reminded by the physical pain I was in, the reactions of my loved ones and by the gifts and well wishes I was inundated with that I had come so close to no longer being around. To this day I would have been but a memory of some little girl who had once been part of the family. This sounds really morbid and I do have a morbid fascination with death but In times of trouble or when things get me down I think upon that moment and remind myself that there is still much life left to live. I am still here and as such I can still contribute. It stops me from wasting time and it helps me gain the confidence to reach out when I need help.

So I put it to you to think about those moments that changed you or changed the world around you. Let’s use those moments to push ourselves to do better and to remind us to make the world around us a better place in whatever ways we can.

Dinner At The Manor

Beckingridge Manor was a place that many would dream of living in. It was a beautiful old mansion house that had been in the family for generations. They were old money but Jeffrey Beckingridge aka Gramps was who made it really what it was. But behind those mansion walls lay skeletons. Like for instance, Alice Beckingridge. She had been accused of murdering her son. The boy had been born deformed. He had been hidden inside the manor, few even knew of his existence until his life was cut short and his body discovered buried in the Manor House lawns. She’s dead now too so plays little part in the following events.  

Then there was Alice’s sister in law, Elizabeth. Growing up in the world of privilege she had never really learned what it meant to consider others. Spoiled and selfish as you would expect Elizabeth set herself apart from the rest of her family by having a conscience. She did try. What made her the same was she had her skeletons too. The became less over the years with Gramps no longer around to lock them away.  

Elizabeth makes attempts to distract her nephew by hiring a music teacher.

Then there was Alice’s daughter Catherine. School shootings, extorting teachers and running her aunt Elizabeth over with the car so that she now walked with a prosthetic leg. Young Catherine was quite the up and comer. The society pages of the Filton Crier were keeping a very close eye on her indeed. Now she had her own baby, little Vicky. Time would tell where Victoria Beckingridge would fit into her family.  

Probably the most notable in terms reputation would be George. Elizabeth’s nephew and Catherine’s younger brother. He had hit first hit the headlines at age eight when it was he who had discovered his mother’s body. The already famous Beckingridge heir became even more so when he was kidnapped by his music teacher, Vincent Baines. Dead dogs, dead relatives, dead teachers were left behind. If there were a competition for the ûmost skeletons among the Beckingridge’s the safest bet would be George. Psychopathic tendencies is what they say about him but given his status in the city no one seemed prepared to do anything about it. The music teacher instantly regretted his decision to take the boy away from what he felt was a toxic environment. The Manor House was indeed toxic but stealing him away just gave George a whole new playground for ten long years. The musician’s life was made a misery but the family sighed relief being rid of little George for a while. When he was found they would have denied him if they could.  

George and his beloved companion Cecil.

So quite a mess as I’m sure you will agree and it rested on the shoulders of patriarch, Ernest Beckingridge. Sweet natured Ernest didn’t have the bite of his sister, Elizabeth. He didn’t have the iron will of his wife, Alice either. Quite frankly he didn’t have what it took to lead the Beckingridge Empire or keep his son and daughter in line.  

“Stop killing things!” Ernest cried in despair. “Why can’t you just act like a real boy?”  

George grinned. It was only feeding his temperament.  

“It’s okay, baby girl,” Ernest said to Catherine. “We’ll be fine.”  

Ernest Beckingridge has a lot on his shoulders.

Catherine snuggled into her father’s arms. At her age she really should have been learning responsibility but it was easier to hug her and keep her quiet. Ernest wouldn’t be around forever and Catherine was in for a rude awakening when she didn’t have her billionaire father to protect her. Elizabeth tried to warn her brother of this. She had experienced the same thing when Gramps died.  

Disfunction. A term used when a family unit is broken but carries on anyway. Blood is thicker than water. Money and entitlement make you even thicker than that to the ways of the world. But despite all their troubles life at Beckingridge Manor went on. Dinner was always served promptly at eight.  

*** 

The salad course had only just been served. George hadn’t ate much of it. Instead he made a fuss of it with his fork then left the shredded pieces. He had spilled some of them onto the table. Catherine wasn’t paying much attention as usual. With one hand she was trying to feed her baby. Vicky was leaning forward in her high chair trying to catch the spoon in her mouth but her mother’s eyes were too busy reading her phone.  

“George, will you take that disgusting thing off of the table!” Aunt Elizabeth barked.  

It was a stuffed mouse she referred to. It’s fur was matted, the stuffing was crushed and for some reason it smelled like garlic. He named it Cecil and he took it wherever he went.  

George glared at Elizabeth. “Cecil stays here,” he stated.  

“You’re eighteen,” Elizabeth chided. “It’s ridiculous that you would carry that filthy thing around with you.”  

Ernest looked up from his plate. He finally decided to speak up.  

“Come on now George,” he said. “Take it off the table.”  

Elizabeth wasn’t satisfied. “We’re trying to eat here and I need to look at those … stains? What even is that?” she wrinkled her nose. “Never mind. I don’t want to know, just get the damn thing away.”  

George grinned. Seeing his aunt get upset made him giggle. Cecil tended to have that affect on people. 

“May I be excused?” Catherine asked in what should have been a polite request but was instead laced with frustration.  

“No you may not,” Elizabeth said. “If you didn’t have your face stuck in that blasted phone the entire time you would be done by now. Eat your salad.”  

Catherine looked to her father. Ernest raised his eyebrows but said nothing. It wasn’t his problem. He had ate his salad.  

“How is the tuition going, George?” He decided to attempt polite conversation with his son. “Are you coping with it?”  

George wouldn’t be an easy pupil to teach. The general public scoffed at the idea of a grown man removing his pupil from his home only to become the kidnap victim himself but Ernest knew his son. It was indeed very plausible. The most unsettling thing about the whole scenario was how George had returned to the manor after all that time and it seemed like nothing had happened. The Beckingridges could adapt to any scenario. It was what helped them keep the flow of cold hard cash to the city.  

George nodded. “It’s okay.” He looked at Cecil. In his mind Cecil must have said something he didn’t approve of so he knocked him over. He could see Elizabeth stifle a stomach lurch at the toy.  

“And Kappa So?” Asked the father. “It’ll be pledge week soon.”  

Ernest had been a member of the exclusive Filton Fraternity back when he was George’s age. He wasn’t exactly one of the in crowd but Charles ‘Chick’ Owen who was the Chapter Leader at the time accepted him as one of their own. The fraternity was now under the guidance of Chick’s son Buddy. George had taken a shine to him. He even started to imitate him quite a bit, using turns of phrases he wouldn’t normally.  

“Kappa So!” He would scream, already wearing his blazer even though he hadn’t officially been accepted.  

“Buddy said you’re a peg legged whore and the only time you shut up is when you have a dick in your mouth,” George gleefully announced to his aunt.  

“George!” Ernest finally decided to intervene.  

It was too late though. Elizabeth was already on her feet. He had her fork in her her hand, pointing it at her nephew like Satan with his trident. She decided against it. With a clang she dropped the fork onto her plate and lifted her glass of wine instead.  

“Liz!” Ernest tried to stop her but it was too late. She emptied the glass into George’s face.  

“That’s disgusting!” He complained. “It tastes like feet.”  

Elizabeth sat back down. Her scowl had dissolved into a wry smile as she watched George try to dry himself with the table cloth, almost knocking his plate to the floor.  

“Gah!” Vicky started to reach out for her great aunt.  

“May I be excused?” Catherine asked again.  

“No,” Elizabeth barked. “We’re a family and we have dinner together. Even if we must share the table with lunatic Larry over there.”  

Ernest was shaking his head. “Can’t we just have one meal where someone doesn’t empty a glass of wine of another’s head. Don’t we deserve some quiet after everything the family has been through?”  

“Oh Ernest do shut up,” Elizabeth barked.  

Ernest sighed. He attempted to change the subject. It was always especially volatile between George and Elizabeth so he decided to engage his daughter.  

“So Catherine,” he began. “Did Vicky sleep through the night? I don’t believe I heard her.”  

Catherine shrugged. How would she know? If baby Victoria had been screaming merry hell from her nursery it still wouldn’t have been her mother to go and fetch her.  

“I think she was trying to say da da,” Catherine offered.  

Elizabeth was turning her empty wine glass in her hand. “It’s a pity she doesn’t know who Da Da is,” she commented.  

“I hope you choke pills and die you cantankerous old shrew,” Catherine snarled.  

Elizabeth gave a hearty laugh. “Oh Catherine, I wouldn’t have to be cantankerous if you didn’t leave your child for everyone else to look after.”  

Vicky had woken up through the night as it happened. Catherine wouldn’t have known this because she had ignored the baby’s cries until Elizabeth had come to fetch her.  

“Come to me my little darling,” she had heard Elizabeth whisper to her daughter over the monitor in a sweetened tone she used with no one else. It was so alien to her aunt that at first she didn’t realise who it was.  

Catherine raised her finger at her aunt. George was giggling to himself, his fair hair still stained with red wine. Ernest was almost burying his face in what was left of the salad in despair.  

“Can we leave the vulgarity please!” Ernest requested with a little more passion than they were used to. “It’s not for the dinner table.”  

“May I be excused?” Catherine asked again.  

“No.” This time it was her father who requested that she stay.  

“I’m not hungry,” she tried.  

“Maybe not,” said Elizabeth, interrupting Ernest. “But your baby still is.” 

“I have a vulgar story,” George put in. 

“No George,” said Elizabeth. “You don’t.”  

*** 

Later that evening the Beckingridge manor quietened. Elizabeth had decided to take a walk around to try and tire herself out. She sensed that evening would be one where sleep would not come easily. As she passed by Vicky’s nursery she could hear singing. At first she thought it was a figment of her imagination it had been so soft and tender. She recognised the song but couldn’t quite place where from. It was a male voice. Ernest wasn’t an easy sleeper then either so perhaps he had gotten up to spend some time with his granddaughter. Was the song the lullaby their nanny used to sing to them as children? Elizabeth still couldn’t decide. She didn’t want to disturb the sweetness. She actually found herself enjoying the tone. She pushed the door open gently. The nursery was bathed in soft nightlights. Stars danced across the roof. Vicky had pulled herself up onto her feet in her cot. It wasn’t Ernest who was singing to her though. It was George. The lighting had subdued his normally sneering expression. At the least the light had provided some of the softening. Some of the serene look had been given from the way he was watching his niece.  

George loved music lessons as a child.

He hadn’t heard his aunt behind him. His focus remained on his niece. Victoria tried to reach through the bars of her cot to Cecil. 

“No,” said George, again surprisingly calmly. Normally he threw a tantrum when anyone tried to take Cecil. It was ridiculous to see a young man of nineteen who was supposed to lead the Beckingridge Tower one day throw a tantrum like a toddler over a stuffed animal. He smiled at Vicky though. It seemed the after dinner entertainment was called off.  

“You don’t want Cecil,” George explained to the child. “He’s not a nice toy.”  

It had been the first time Elizabeth heard George admit he was a toy. Every other time he was insistent that it was his friend. Elizabeth knew he had just being doing it to create a scene. What frightened her the most about that realisation was that she would have created a scene too if someone irritated her the way she seemed to irritate George.  

George lifted a stuffed monkey and passed it to the infant.  

“Here. You have ‘cheeky monkey,” he said.  

Vicky grinned and clasped the monkey to her chest. Cheeky Monkey looked exactly like the little monkey on the pink onesie she wore.  

“Cheeky Monkey is a much better toy for you,” the uncle explained. Vicky seemed to agree but she kept her eyes on Cecil.  

“Cecil!” Vicky garbled in toddler language pointing to him.  

“That’s right,” George agreed.  

He seemed to take closer note of Vicky behind the bars of her cot.  

“They won’t keep you in here all the time,” George went on. “I won’t let them. It was so easy for them just to lock that door and forget me when I was a little boy. I won’t let them do the same to you. I know it can get scary in here sometimes. The door is heavy and the windows are high up but you won’t be locked in here. You can’t let them see you get angry. That’s when they lock you in here.”  

“Gah?” Vicky said almost agreeing. Her tantrum earlier had seen her banished to the nursery just like Uncle George said.  

“Yeah, that’s right,” said George. “They just lock you in here, sometimes for days. They would always have you smile. They would always have you laugh. You can’t say anything no matter how much you want to scream and rip into someone’s belly. But don’t you worry Vicky. You won’t be like me. You won’t need crusty old Cecil. I won’t let them lock you in here.  

He leaned over and kissed her head. “You are cute!” He gushed.  

Vicky giggled. “Yes you are.”  

“That’s enough George,” Elizabeth finally interrupted.  

George turned round finally paying heed to his aunt’s presence. 

“She was crying,” he said.  

Elizabeth insisted. “Then I’ll see to her.”  

“She wanted me,” George was adamant.  

Vicky lay herself down in her cot, clutching Cheeky Monkey closely. She yawned. George and Elizabeth left her room to let her drift back to sleep.  

“Good night, Aunt Elizabeth,” George said neither sweetly nor sneering. For a few moments he could be mistaken for a real boy.  

“Good night George,” Elizabeth replied.  

“Sleep well,” added the nephew.  

Was that a threat? Was that a genuine request? Was he deliberately being a nice to essentially be an irritating prick? Elizabeth found Ernest in the lounge and when she had relayed to him the conversation she had overhead with Vicky it seemed to make him uneasy. They had locked him away often when he was a child but what choice did they have? He was out of control. Who’s fault was that?  

George pulled the sheets up to his chin. Cecil sat balanced on his belly watching him with his beady black eyes. That was when he heard his door click, locked from the outside.  

Behind those mansion walls lay a whole host of skeletons. The Beckingridge family experts at locking them away.  


The Beckingridge family can buy just about anything. What they can’t buy is peace of mind from the psychopath that lives in the manor with them.  

The Beckingridge family thought they had it made. An obsessed music teacher took their problems away but ten years later it was back in the manor and the teacher in Harbour House rehab.  

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Can’t Live Without

“We forget the things we should value the most.

Too busy seeking those shiny things to boast.”

Have you ever been asked what you would find difficult or even impossible to live without if you were stuck on a desert island? No? Well consider this my putting the question to you.

Internet seems to be incredibly important to people these days. It’s a way to research and keep in touch with friends and family so let’s assume for the sake of this pondering that it was taken away. What then? Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself and the internet is one thing that you would most definitely not live without. After all, whats the point in being on a sun kissed island if you can’t send those snaps to insta? But let’s assume phones, tablets and their ilk are not possible. What then?

PEN and PAPER

Even in this day and age with all the streaming devices I would be content just to have a pen and paper to scribble away. I would document my thoughts, fictional stories or maybe a detailed description of the conversations I’m having with a favoured palm tree on this imaginary island. To me if you are able to do that there is no amount of isolation that could get to you. I’ve always been a weird kid with a nose in a book though.

MUSIC

life on that deserted island would be pretty dull without music, wouldn’t it? I live my life by music. It wakes me up, it follows me throughout the day and it puts me to sleep again. I’m not exactly sure how this would work without modern conveniences to play music on but one way or another I’d need to have music around. Maybe the crashing waves could provide the music …

A WAY TO TELL THE TIME

For as long as I can remember I have always been a little anxious when there is nothing around that is able tell me with some degree of accuracy what time it is. A clock, a watch or even a home made sun dial would be something I would need. Although time keeping is a man made construct and being on a desert island would be an opportunity to learn to not live your life around the clock.

A COMFORTABLE CHAIR

Whether it is for resting, dozing or pondering I would need to have my favourite shady spot. I guess it is in human nature to try and find that little space we can call our own. Give me my comfortable chair and I’ll be content.

THESE GUYS

My niece and my nephew. They are as close to me as my own babies. It would be a struggle to be without them. I guess I’m not as good with isolation as I thought …

So what about you? What would be those things that you just couldn’t live without?


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Inspiring words

“And you ask

What if I fall?

oh but my darling

What if you fly?

Erin Hanson

Words are powerful things, aren’t they? They have the power to put down but they also have the immense potential to lift up. The above quote from a poem by Erin Hanson is one of my absolute favourites. The words are powerful and the message is one that speaks to me. We all have those missed opportunities and to be encouraged to pursue your dreams no matter how scary it seems or how vulnerable it makes you feel is something I will always champion.

“No one is useless in this world that lightens the burden of another.”

Charles Dickens

Not only is Dickens one of the great masters of literature, he is also a passionate speaker for those with little voice. With his masterful story telling techniques he challenged the Victorian elite and opened their eyes to social problems. Knowing this about him makes all of his words more powerful to me and the above quote in particular. Even over two centuries after since his birth the world still needs to be reminded that success in your own pursuits but the importance should lie in what we can do for others. A charitable man, a tremendously talented wordsmith and his words stand the test of time.

“If you can dream it, you can do it.”

Walt Disney

Imagination is such a powerful tool. This is evident when I spend time with my niece and nephew and enjoy how they lose themselves in their imaginations. The world around us can be whatever we want it to be. Our imagination is what would make long lasting and positive changes to our own world and to the greater world too. For the young this is an important reminder but I also think it is just as relevant to those older too. Use your imagination and let a better world fall into place.

“Even the darkest nights will end and the sun will rise.”

Victor Hugo

These words are simple yet capture a sentiment that can be put to so many different things in life. When you struggle or when you are facing tough challenges personally or professionally these words have the power to help you push though. It is a reminder that the world may seem like a scary place sometimes but never forget the sun does eventually return to the skies.

So those are just some of my favourite inspiring quotes. Thanks to the internet there are a whole host of beautiful words out there and with the power to compose, share and inspire let’s use the power of words to help others, imagine the positive impact we can have on the world around us and remember tomorrow brings a new day.

What are some of your favourite quotes?


Vivika Widow is an author of thriller books and graphic novels. Her latest novel HARBOUR HOUSE is available now. The complete season 1 of the Knock Knock graphic novel series is free to read here on Vivika Widow online or download for Kindle Unlimited.

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Character profile: Andre Luis

“Our city, our rules!”

The chant rings out at Coldford City stadium as star striker Andre Luis brings another victory home for the champions.

Name: Andre Luis

Age: 26

Occupation: Professional footballer

Features in: KNOCK KNOCK

From the town of Luen, Andre Luis is an outsider to the Shady City but bringing his own penchant for villainy he fits right in. As a professional athlete he’s entitled, rich and completely unaware of the gritty reality around him. He is talented on the football field but a sordid past saw him transfer to the richest Coldford team. He believed crossing the waters from his homeland would leave the negative press behind but some stories chase harder than a KINGSGATE ALBION centre half.

Andre Luis and his team mate Louis Fang. Both are Coldford natives.

He was no stranger to the rivalries that are stirred up in football, he has been playing professionally since his teens but nothing quite compared to the hatred stirred between his own team and that of their closest rivals from the south of the city. COLDFORD ATHLETIC had Sammy Connelly to boast. They called him the golden boy and despite Andre Luis bringing home more trophies to the City cabinet, Sammy had the one thing that Andre Luis always coveted, the Golden Boot.

The richest team in the city. Sponsored by the Penn Auction House.

Life in Coldford can be sweet when you have all the adulation of a premier striker with plenty of wins to your name. Some people can find themselves drunk on that kind of influence. It didn’t take long for Andre Luis to find himself in trouble again. However, unlike the glamorous, rolling beaches of Luen, the Shady City didn’t allow much room for forgiveness.

Andre Luis provided a startling win against rival, Sammy Connelly.

His attitude on and off the park has made him quite a figure of hate. Like a pantomime villain he has chosen to embrace this. After all, team sponsors PENN AUCTION HOUSE are on hand to reel him in when he upsets too many people. Andre Luis learned this the hard way during a fixture with the northern team, Bournton. The game was set the day following a boxing match between SIMON ‘PUNCHLINE’ PENN and the BOURNTON BLIZZARD. Tensions were already high going into the ring knowing the battle would continue onto the football field. When Simon lost his composure in the ring, permanently disabling the Blizzard, the crowd that travelled to City Main were already baying for blood. Sending a skilful strike to the back of the net of the visitors, Andre Luis felt it a good idea to strike at the corner flag as though he was boxing and throw himself to the ground in a convulsing heap. The Bournton crowd did not react kindly to the taunting of one of their most beloved town figures, still in hopsital, still dealing with the fact that he would never walk again. Furious, Penn patriarch REGINALD had stern words with the manager and Andre Luis was pulled from the field.

The competing football teams of Coldford.

The father was not at all pleased that his son’s moment of barbarity would be used in this way. Simon was already dealing with the consequences of his actions. Although Penn triplet brother REGGIE tried to hold back his laughter his father’s fury was not to be ignored. Andre Luis found himself back in Luen for a short break. Break being the operative word …

#amreading a #shadycity #thriller by Vivika Widow and I’m supporting #coldfordcity


My Best Gift

For me the best gifts are those given with real thought in mind. I have always valued sentimentality in presents over monetary value. I mean, precious gems, fancy holidays and the likes are not to be sneezed at but for me it is far more important that someone gives some thought to why the one receiving the gift would love it. This is something I try and keep in mind when I’m buying gifts for others. With that considered it made me think of some of the beautiful gifts I have been lucky to receive over the years.

There was a time in my life when I needed that sentimentality more than ever. I was in my second year of medical school, I was battling depression, exam stress and was isolated hundreds of miles away from my family and friends. Christmas came and on the morning in question my dad presented me with a hand drawing he had made for me of Frankenstein’s monster. To put you in the picture not only is my dad an amazing artist but Frankenstein is also my favorite novel, favorite movie and – dare I say it – one of the reasons I was inspired to study anatomy in the first place. Not only was this incredibly thoughtful but it was also something I could take back to medical school with me, pin to my wall and remind myself of what I was working towards (the degree I mean not the ghoulish experiments …)  

You see for me it really doesn’t matter how much was spent on a present. It doesn’t need to be expensive or flashy. Some of the best gifts are those little things that you see and think, ‘so and so would love this.’ It’s a cliché platitude but it really is the thought that counts. A gift should be something that shows a person that you were thinking of them. When it comes to big events it is too easy to get swept up moving from shop to shop to find something that meets a financial expectation. Birthdays, holidays and general moments of sharing should be about what the other person means to you. In my humble opinion the best way to show that is to show that you have been listening. I guess what it all boils down to is showing how much you really know them and want to make them happy with your gift.  

So, what was some of your most thoughtful gifts? Are you a sop like me and love the sentimentality or is it the shiny things you enjoy most?   


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Character Profile: William ‘Billy’ Owen

Age: 37

Features in: KNOCK KNOCK

Start talking.

Murder, corruption and kidnapping. Fifty nine people thrown from the top floor of the Beckingridge Tower. It’s about time this City was brought to heel.

Billy Owen is former Special Ops with campaign experience in the most difficult terrains of Northern Subala. His natural ability with firearms made his name. His treatment of prisoners almost ruined it.

He’s a Kappa So brother  for life. He’s CPD by charge. If anyone is going to be bringing the justice it’s going to be this man. There are villains to catch and a name to make so step aside and let him do his thing.  

Billy is from the broken branch of the Owen family tree so when there are things to mend he’s the best man to call. Just remember folks, an Owen never misses a target and Billy has set his sights on The Shady City.

Billy is looking to make a name in the Shady City.

The Knock Knock Boss Lady has made an enemy of the Owen family but she’s ready for that challenge.

Complete season 1 is free to read here at Vivika Widow.com or click below to download for kindle.

The Baroness’ beloved cabaret club was attacked and the Owen family are the suspects. Just another day of covering up their misdeeds.

Tawny is now Resident 0109 of the Harbour House rehab facility. Will she recover from her trauma? 

Vivika Widow’s latest thriller is available now!

My Worst Advice

No matter how old you get, no matter how independent you are you will always be given advice. A whole manner of issues and events crop up in life when others will feel the need to advise you on what to do. I’m not detracting from the natural support group that it is important to surround yourself with. What I’m discussing here are those who give unwarranted suggestions or advise on issues that are of no consequence to them. Busybodies if you like.

We’ve all had our fair share of terrible advice. Most of it comes from a good place but it got me thinking about the worst advice I’ve ever been given.

“There’s an operation now that can make you taller. You should go and get your legs stretched.”

My five foot tall frame has never bothered me. I’m the short girl. It means about as much to me as my having blue eyes or brown hair. This came completely out of the blue and if I were to follow such sage advice I’d have put myself through unnecessary surgery as a teenager for the sake of a few extra inches, which if it really bothered me that much I’d wear heels to fix.

“Try your best to fit in with the other kids.”

I was never the bubbly child. Sure I was lucky to have lots of friends but what I always enjoyed most was time alone, reading a book. I interacted little with the children in my class and for that I was made to seem odd. Most people that know me would argue I am a little odd but when you’re still growing up and finding yourself being made to seem like you are misbehaving because you had a different view of how you wanted to spend your leisure time was not helping.

It’s best to know your own mind. We all make mistakes of course but at least mistakes can be made of your own accord. I guess what my point here is is don’t let terrible advice make you change who you are. Whether it’s your looks or your hobbies or even how others perceive you.

So what is the worst advice you have ever been given? How did you react to it?

#amreading a blog by @VivikaWidow


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The latest thriller from Vivika Widow is available now.

Bring me your sick. Bring me your troubled. Bring me those that society can no longer cope with. They will always have a home here at Harbour House.

Knock Knock! Harvester delivery!

Skin and bone will set the tone!

Time is running out, according to the Harvesters. The Boss Lady might have been stripped of everything but there’s still a little something she can give.

5.02 is the slaughter time on the farm but it’s opening night at the Knock Knock club. Just what will become of it all?

Coming later this year the Knock Knock graphic novel series returns. Invitation only. See you on opening night!

#amreading Knock Knock by @VivikaWidow


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Complete Season 1 is free to read here at Vivika Widow Online or click below to download on Kindle.