Dim Witness.

The pipistrelle circled the darkening square and, with an ease unseen, made a wheel of it; a welcome for the rising shadow tide. The bell, the harbour bell, sang once across Penn Beacon, reaching the garden some time after. The thin brass coloured peal echoed across the three walls of the back garden and faded  faded faded … Continue reading Dim Witness.

The knowledge of now.

She sat at the kitchen table with a wine glass and all the what ifs, what weres and what could’ve beens floated in the glass and the bread began to rise. She thought about the summer of 1956. But actually it was difficult to picture much more than a blur of an album of photographs. … Continue reading The knowledge of now.

The Night Was Teal.

  Knott laid the hot bike down gently in the knee-high grass among the night shade of the trees, shy of the flood-lit garage forecourt. He threw his helmet down. He rubbed his head vigorously, unzipped the jacket and took out the empty plastic bottle nested there, threw that down, too. He straddled the five-bar … Continue reading The Night Was Teal.