The slow passage of time
“Ill tell you what Charles” said Bernard, shuffling his newspaper and staring out of the large communal room window. His
I do not have a dog, and his name is not Caper. That is to say If I did have a trusted canine companion, then I am sure that Caper would be his name. Not Brian, nor Carl.
Caleb looked up from the floor, head spinning and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He breathed in deeply,
It’s all good and well gallivanting to heavens knows where wearing only a thin summer jacket” she shouted, “but what if it’s cold. What then?
I have nothing. There is no spark, no chord struck, no glimmer of an idea that will take shape and become
If I were to believe in the biblical fire and brimstone version of hell (which I do not) then I am
Only the incessant scratch scratch scratch of quill on parchment breaks the stony silence. Head down, failing eyes squinting the gnarled hand grips
If I consider the things that tie me, the things that bind me and the things that control me I
The eternal glow and flicker of neon flashed across the wet streets as it did every day and night. Not
When we eventually dusted ourselves off and sat down with a nice cup of tea to discuss with our visitors what next we were one of just a few nations that were able to do so.