The hospital had a particular smell. Hard to identify. It made his nose twitch. Perhaps disinfectant. Disinfectant and desperation. Desperation and decay. In the tea room it was less so. In the tea room it smelled of biscuits. It smelled of apple pie and cheap custard. Everywhere he looked, people looked ill. Or, sick with … Continue reading A Good Deal.
Some years later. He pulls the peacoat collar up over his ears and, head down, takes heel to the bottom of the street. Folk still whisper as he passes, but less so these days. They grow old, they float away, they die. He lives with the memories of that night; the sky more white star … Continue reading The Lookout.
I took the train home from the airport. It was the same journey as it had been earlier, except that now it was in reverse and I was alone with my reflection, and you were in the sky. The cloud was cold against the glass and not a jet plane was to be seen rising … Continue reading American Clouds & Greyhound Shapes.
you dreamt this, she said. i had a trick involving string, a snide loop, a special knot. i had learned it from my dad - seen it once in 1970 something. every magician needs an assistant, be they beautiful or a drunken old shepherd with hoof coloured teeth and field hands. but he had a … Continue reading Bloodline
i'll wear your clothes to protect me, to feel like you do. humming vaguely in the bathroom, i will pause at the glass, hexed. exchanging a borrowed view. we really should get going soon.
There was an imaginable enough group gathered that evening - certainly Wax Noyle was there. Steve Arse (Ears to his face. Arse behind his back), Punk Wayne, Magic Sam and Little Annie. They were seated at a trio of tables in the front window of The Eight Kings. This would have been sometime prior to … Continue reading Sweat Lodge Construction.
