He took the photos and the postcards from the mantelpiece - the palm-sized slate that he used as an incense holder; the dead flower he'd saved from his birthday: he scooped a scatter of low denomination coins and the glass jar tea light holders and scraps of paper with his hand on them - and … Continue reading Box Ephemera.
Paul putt-putted her brow with two kisses and this seemed to me most fitting. Then, with some gargantuan and comedic effort, he clambered from the carpet, through the air to the bed and sat upon it, exhausted and pale in the candlelight. Paul peered into the compact, caught his breath and pouted. Have a go, he … Continue reading Sally, too.
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.
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.
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.
An empty nest constructed mostly of guano and lint in the eaves, grey weeds eked in the brickwork outside the window. The weeds scratched at the glass when the wind blew in off the bay. The walls separating the box kitchen from the bedroom from the bright bathroom, she discovered, after having lived in the … Continue reading Tiny Spines.
