1 Time passed like what it does waiting for dinner to cook and then PING, one day, a Tuesday or a Monday or something, the ugly folk of Twelve Shitty Acres got a break. One of them, an orange coloured dolly who went by the name of Lil-Let, came home with a little stapled book. … Continue reading Twelve Shitty Acres.
1 He came back this time as a monkey: a macaque with a vague longing; an ache for a mate, for a cloud-capped, snowy mountain to retreat to, for the hot water springs there to bathe in. He hummed, as best he could remember them, the birdsongs from the ever-after. He came back. And, for … Continue reading As Thin As Holy Bible Paper.
He woke beneath a kitchen table. Scattered crumbs rose like far-off prairie mountains on the tiles. Through a slice of window he could see a deep crusted snow, shining on a rooftop. The sky held more snow. He was wearing someone else's jumper. Heavy, handwoven, Hebridian: blue with a daisy motif. He stared at the … Continue reading The Kiss.
Speedy Ange laughs. Don’t know ya up from ya down, do ya. I'm all over the place. They’re cooking up hot knives in the kitchenette; Tammy and Speedy Ange. I’m failing to tune a guitar in the other room. Bare boards and candles and incense. Ash on china. I’m on my back, Tammy’s sunburst Jaguar … Continue reading The Crow Court.
Deep in his cups, at the bar, eating peanuts from his fist, as if throwing dice, Garrett. Alexis took the stool beside him, saying, "There's more piss on a pub peanut than there's salt." He swilled the cider cloud, swallowed the dregs, wiped his mouth, replied, "I heard that." He rhymed the word heard with … Continue reading The Carolina Shag.
The chilled yellow interior of the fridge in the one bulb backroom of the frozen pet food shop made him wince. Nick sniffed the milk. He sluiced the tea ringed mugs under the cold tap, wiping the rims with a thumbed and fingered tea towel. The Chelsea one with its chipped lip and sepia rings. … Continue reading Fleet Circles.
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