​​​Don't stop reading. I need you to understand what they have done!


The only sounds he could make, none other than his killer could hear. In the final convulsions of death, his heart had been removed. The beat of death had drummed loudly in his house. An insane justice had been done.

Read more extracts from Blood Relationships:

A Song in a StormIt was nearly three in the morning. The floor was of marble quality. The polished tiled surface inversely reflected Tom’s body as he lay like a discarded puppet in the corner of the cell...

Auld Lang SyneThe trouble with memories they can be like a swarm of mosquitoes sometimes, attacking you from all sides, until one gets you, and you feel the pain, too late to catch the one that got away...

The Wray Inn: How quaint everything was back then. The boats nestled on the opposite bank were tied together, like horses waiting for their cowboys to have one more shot of whiskey in the saloon. By the look of the paintwork, some of the cowboys had stayed inside for too long...

Historical Documents: Many readers will be well aware that September 1, 1939 marked the day when Germany invaded Poland in a brief alliance with the Soviet Union. One fact, not so many readers may realise was that on this day, Hitler secretly authorised the extension of the euthanasia programme to adults, one which had been successfully run and had been disposing of disabled children since the mid 1930s. 

See also: Verifiable Events and Facts.


By Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

Written on the occasion of the

Peterloo Massacre, Manchester

And he wore a kingly crown;
And in his grasp a sceptre shone;
On his brow this mark I saw -

​​Wednesday, July 4, 2012 – Friars Mead, Tower Hamlets, London

The itch in the killer’s mind had become insane. He could not resist it. He did not, in the end, want to. He scratched at the scab and felt the venom rush as the floodgates collapsed and the poison within him invaded his brain and entered the sinews of his body. The rush was raw and visceral. He was awash with it.

The angry stream of vengeance had been fermenting, until the hidden serpent waiting to spit, to urge him, to drive him, to force him to kill, struck. And when he did, the first killing had felt so good, so right. God’s justice.

The power he felt over the final moments of death was an intoxicating drug when the last fragments of life convulsed as his victim fought back with one last surge to survive, until the grip of death twisted the final juices of life out of its prey. The man’s tongue had turned blue, then black. Froth, spittle and then blood oozed from his mouth. The dark brown hairs across the murderer’s forearms formed an ebony river coursing over his tattoos. Try as they might, the hairs were unable to cover the images.

On his left forearm, the words, ‘I am God and King and Law’ encircled a scale of justice icon. On his right, in blood red ink the following words had been scored, ‘The Mask of Anarchy’. Underneath, a gruesome smiling face of death was wrapped in the grip of a hissing serpent.

Blood Relationships

Philip A Oldfield


Psychological Thriller, Historical and Contemporary

Nazi human experiments stopped at the end of World War II. History tells it differently. In 1974, life began in the Petri Dish. The first opened their eyes. London, July 4 2012. Two killers show no mercy. So, begins the discovery of one of history's darkest secrets. From the evil of Nazi Germany to the fear stalking England’s capital, from a breathtaking race across Southern and Eastern Europe and from the wickedness of humanity to its purest expression, Claire Yohanus faces the darkest of fears and the biggest challenges of her life and that of the whole world. ​

Psychological Thriller - Blood Relationships by Philip Oldfield - Author of cross genre and psychological thrillers with strong female protagonists.

​Death had beaten its drum in the early hours of the morning. Beat the life out of the man who wore a scarf to highlight his face, but in reality was worn to hide the wrinkles of age around his neck. The scarf had been a gift from his lover. A lover he had no more. There was no one to miss him. The unfortunate, as he was now, had been walking along Manchester Road. He had been in the wrong place. His sentence, deliverance to the Almighty sooner than he would have wished.

In the pub, the victim had seen the coarse and muscular man in fleeting glimpses across the several bars inside. Once or twice, they had caught each other’s eye. His build had made him acutely conscious of needing to be wanted again. And when finally he had drunk enough courage, the man had dematerialised and was gone; despondent, he had left.

He had been making his way home on foot. It was quiet, just him, his thoughts, the pavement and an empty road. Had he known his fate, he would have preferred it to have stayed that way or at least to have a passing witness or two, another car on the road even, to see the steps he took that would end his life. If only.

When a solitary car had pulled up alongside of him, there smiling was Eros reborn resting one of his strong tattooed arms on the car’s open window, he had not hesitated. The decision to say yes had been easy. He had warmed to the sight of a dog, with gorgeously sleek black fur, lying on the back seat. He had leant over and patted him. The dog had wagged his tail and licked his hand, which probably tasted old and salty.

Back home, his cat had watched him and the much taller, bigger man, trailing the warning scent of a dog on his clothes, enter the hallway and make their way deeper into the house. Lust had rapidly turned to fear when the powerful – now unstoppable – killer tightened not loosened his scarf. He was forced to the floor. He wanted to scream.  He wanted so desperately to shout. His eyes bulged. His tongue lolled. A knife slit cleanly across his throat.

The only sounds he could make, none other than his killer could hear. In the final convulsions of death, his heart had been removed. The beat of death had drummed loudly in his house. An insane justice had been done.

In the shower as the killer’s rage subsided, and the itch had been sated for now, he had watched with dwindling curiosity as the remnants of death disappeared in a swirl down the plughole. Silently, unobserved he had had left. In the car, his dog, waiting patiently, enjoyed a new form of meat that night. One he would take a liking for. His master had not forgotten him; it was a dog's life after all.​

Beautifully written, meticulously researched. A chilling, contemporary artistic thriller, full of fascinating historical insights. A truly terrifying yet moving account of what the future might hold. The author mixes science with the arts effortlessly, to brilliant effect - not easy to achieve. A must for those who continue to believe in humanity, in this crazy world, and are able to think for themselves. Definitely recommended.

​Fiona M