The jars of pickle were kept at the back of the cellar. Of course. They wouldn’t be conveniently positioned at the bottom of the stairs. That would be far too easy. I’d already heard the jokes about the ghost. The one nobody ever saw, but everyone had heard… Continue reading The Saturday Girl and The Heavy-Breather
Some books are parties to which you are invited, full of friends who are there even when you have no friends.
His moustache wriggled like a caterpillar when he laughed. Florence hated it. She hated the moustache, she hated the high waistband of his tweed trousers, the way George cleared his throat all the time – huh-hummm. The protruding mole by his ear, the smell of stale pipe tobacco, the way he kept his fingernails so long that they cut into the skin of her arm now as he gripped her. She shook her arm, but he held it all the tighter. And while his mouth smiled, she saw anger in his eyes… Continue reading The Quiet Fight and Flight of Florence Morgan
A short story about the things we hide from others, and even from ourselves. Continue reading The Protest: A Short Story
THE NATURE OF TREES: FRIEND OR FOE?
It had been a long time since Christina neglected to pay her faerie toll when traveling through the woods so, for a moment, she dithered, unsure of how effective her new ring of invisibility was. Passing by the Toll Tree, she became a young girl with all her old fears, at the very birth of her quest. All the battles and triumphs between then and now seemed suddenly irrelevant, for this… this was the Black Wood, and home to Gallus, whose memory still turned Christina’s very core into an icicle.Continue reading “Alternative Fact #3 from ‘Blackwood’”
I wanted to appear interesting, but fun. I wanted to look creative and deep, but not in a self-obsessed way. Approachable, but not puppy-dog. Continue reading INSPIRATION: First Day Nerves
Mab was so pleased to see Silas that she grabbed his hands and told him the story at great speed.Continue reading “Alternative Fact #2 from ‘Blackwood’”