19/07/2026
Hello. Im looking for some help. I've rewritten the first two chapters of my scifi comedy book and I would love to know if the story grabs you. Would you continue reading, or if not, why not.
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated :)
Chapter 1
Despite all the begging, Miller showed no sign of leaving the barstool he had been miserably plonked on for the last few hours.
Outside the smashed front doors of The Royal Ships, a once grand Victorian pub now decrepit and clinging stubbornly to a crumbling red cliff edge, Jacob fought against a storm determined to shove him back inside his family’s grotty bar. He screamed for his twin's help, but the only reply was his echo from within the almost empty building.
Jacob had a mission. And that meant forcing his way further outside.
But his opponent wasn't making it easy. Backward he tumbled. Jacob used every last drop of strength in his small body to fight against the powerful gale. As he forced his way further outside into the storm, a sudden gust of wind lifted Jacob off of his feet and slammed him against the hard gravel ground. As he lay checking his stumpy nose for breakage, a small part of him had to begrudgingly understand his brother's reluctance to help. It was bad enough that the pair of them were stuck in this absolute chocolate starfish of a pub, so he could kinda respect that Miller had no desire to get flung out to sea for the God forsaken place. The better life by the Devonshire seaside that Jacob and Miller's father had promised the whole family wasn’t exactly living up to expectations. Mind you, it would have been more surprising if it had!
Still, disappointing as life had been so far, Jacob would quite like the opportunity to endure more of it. So once more he bellowed through the howling wind, the lashing rain and the war drums of thunder. Miller didn’t budge.
Sure, the booming roar of the storm might've swallowed his pleas. But the front doors had just been smashed open, so you’d think he’d at least turn around to see what all the bloody fuss was about.
Jacob alone had ventured out into the inky black hole of a night to rescue the new signs he had spent all week lovingly painting. He wasn't just saving signs, he was saving the promotions for his amazing ideas for the pub. He was saving the business. He was saving his family! Which, if he liked it or not, bloody included Miller, so the useless fe**er should HELP HIM!
But no, not Miller, instead, his scruffy twin remained glued to the news whilst feeding the pet hamster, Mr Chippy, who lived in his shirt pocket. With each passing day, Miller seemed to resemble his furry little lodger more and more.
Accepting no help was coming from his feckless twin, Jacob struggled to his hands and knees and persevered through the rain that crashed over him like a tsunami.
He almost had his fingertips to one of the few A boards that had not been stolen by the storm, when a powerful gust of wind picked it up and gleefully frisbee’d it away into the air.
As Jacob hurled every expletive he could remember at whatever force was behind his torment, he noticed something strange about the weather.
The rain, the lightning, the wind, all of it seemed to be coming from a single point directly above their crappy pub.
In fact, it seemed to be coming from…
Whooosh.
His attention was swiftly diverted as his A board boomeranged back around and just missed his noggin.
Well, Jacob thought, it seemed God didn’t like being called names, so in future he would keep those just for his brother.
Any sensible sod would have thrown themselves back into the safety of the pub, but sensible was never a word anyone had used for Jacob or his family. He wanted to rescue at least ONE of the remaining signs he had painted, even if he was in real danger of the wind carrying his short arse off to Oz any second.
“Milllllller!” he yelled, more panicked now.
The wind was literally lifting him off his little feet. Frantically, he grabbed hold of the wet, smooth brass door handle.
“Can you PLEASE help me!”
“Ang on a minute, J!” Miller casually replied, without even turning to see what all the drama was about (and there was ALWAYS some sort of drama with his brother).
“MILLER!” wailed Jacob.
“J! Can’t you see I’m actually working here?” Miller snapped in their shared Brummie accent.
“I’m watching the bar, aren’t I?” and he let one hand lazily waft across their empty shambles of a ruined pub.
“Hey, the news lady said UFOs have been spotted around Torquay tonight.
Have a look, will ya, whilst you’re fecking about out there.”
The only flying object Jacob wanted to see was his fuzzy face brother soaring up into the air as he kicked him up the arse.
“Nooooooo!” he cried as the storm tore the last sign from his grasp.
As his wide, pained eyes followed the final board ascending up into the heavens, he noticed that it wasn’t alone up there.
Through the blustering rain and swirling debris, he thought he could see a silver sphere hanging motionless in the sky.
It was completely unaffected by the ferocious storm battering it from all sides. If it was a balloon, or even a drone, it would be getting tossed about harder than a stag at a massage parlor, but it was eerily motionless.
Could it actually be a UFO? Jacob swiped the rain pooling in his eyes and squinted to see better, but no sooner had his vision focused, a flash of lightning briefly blinded him.
When his vision returned, the object was gone.
Chapter 2
“Miller. Miller. Miller!”
No reply from his twin.
“There’s a UFO out here. I can see one! It’s right outside!”
Suddenly, his little brother, who was, of course, exactly the same age as Jacob, just little too, scuttled up beside him.
“Where, J? Where’s the UFO?” he begged.
“I can’t exactly point it out when I’m holding on for dear life, can I!” Jacob spluttered, furious, almost drowned by the rain.
With a well practiced roll of his eyes, Miller grabbed hold of his twin and heaved him back inside. The pair went crashing onto the soggy old carpet.
Miller might not notice one more blemish on his rather tatty work shirt, but Jacob prided himself on being dressed to impress, for he was a serious businessman.
Miller sat up, checked that Mr Chippy hadn’t been squished, and then turned to his brother.
“So where is it, J?”
For a second, Jacob felt a surge of excitement, an eagerness to tell Miller what he had seen. But common sense quickly prevailed.
Mention aliens and it wouldn’t take long for the jokes to start. He’d soon be known as the ‘Probe guy.’
Within a week, there would no doubt be rumors about him running around the Moors, pantless, hoping for a ‘third close encounter.’
So Jacob swallowed his enthusiasm and remembered his anger instead.
“There is no UFO, you bleedin’ idiot. I just needed you to help me in.”
“Ah, quit being a bloody soak. It ain’t even that bad out there,” For once, Miller wasn't winding him up, the apocalyptic hurricane had already dwindled to little more than an ordinary storm.
“Well, it might be dying down a little” Jacob argued, “but if I hadn’t grabbed hold of the door, I’d be somewhere over the rainbow by now!”
“Whatever, J. So you didn’t see nowt?” Miller asked, disappointed.
“Nothing other than all me hard work being fed to the bloody sea,” Jacob groaned.
“Perfect,” grinned Miller. “We’ll close early if this storm is soooo terrible. No one's gonna make it to the pub if they're gonna get blown arse over tit on the way, are they?”
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere. You can grab the mop and actually earn your wage for a change!
I’ve spent all day clearing out every last drop of your ‘home brew’ from the pipes. Had anyone actually drunk any of that stuff, we’d be looking at 20 years for murder!”
“Er, who da bloody’ell put you in charge, J balls?" asked Miller, incredulous that his night was possibly in danger of being stolen from him.
“Mom did!” squeaked Jacob, instantly losing the respectable businessman aura that he was so desperately trying to cultivate these days.
Interrupting the brotherly argument was the sharp ding of the brass bell as the front doors flew open once again.
Normally, that sound heralded the arrival of a rare customer. Instead, it welcomed screaming wind and machine gun rain, invading the bar for a second time, joined by the snap, crackle and pop of lightning.
But the vicious weather wasn't alone this time.
A bright green flash momentarily blinded Jacob for the second time that night. As the brothers' blurred vision returned, they saw a plump shape being shoved through the doorway by the furious gale.
A thoroughly harassed looking, youngish, specky fella lurched towards the brothers, disorientated. Dressed like an accountant, minus a much needed suit jacket, he was soaked through, muddy, and clearly distressed, a nasty bloody cut above one eye.
The stranger staggered towards the bar.
He looked like he'd somehow escaped from no man's land before stumbling into the twins' pub. He staggered towards the bar, swayed, then finally flopped across it.
The twins made their way over to the slumped gentleman with an edge of weariness.
“Er, can we help you, mate?” asked Miller, somewhat concerned for the stranger’s wellbeing.
Jacob, however, narrowed his eyes at the muddy mess that the fella had dragged across the carpet he had cleaned not two hours ago.
The man lifted his damp, gore flecked face from the bar and looked at the brothers with an expression of pure dread.
“No one can help me…no one can help any of us. We’re all buggered!”
