Appleheart. Day One

There would be nobody I knew. None of my friends were going. Not even an enemy. In a pocket on the side of my rucksack was a tiny amber bottle of Rescue Remedy my brother had bought for me last week. I wondered if I could get it out and take a few drops without anyone on the bus seeing me but didn’t have the nerve. It made me smile a little; I didn’t have the nerve to take the potion to reduce my nervousness. Stupid.

Ginger Spice

The girl had been born with a flamboyant red curl on the top of her head, and so her father labelled her ‘Ginger’. The label quickly became a name, inscribed in royal-blue ink on her birth certificate, and maybe that was part of the problem. A problem that grew as she grew. Because Ginger was the name of a spice (or a cat) and not a woman’s name at all…

Out of the Frying Pan… The Reluctant Rescue of Jack Fairchild

The moon finally peeked from behind the clouds as the dogs trotted on across the dark, windswept moorland, scattering powdery snow with their tails. The pilot (perhaps called ‘Jack’, but he wasn’t entirely sure) limped along, looking up every so often and cursing the white disc above him. His memory had deserted him, he was frozen to the core, rigid with pain, and beholden to the silent, dour giant of a man beside him. The crash would never have happened on a clear night. He would have made it to wherever the hell he was meant to be…