Knott squatted in the muddy field, finding meagre shelter there beneath the rattling leaves of a storm-split twist of tree, a stone’s throw from the road and, glancing up and down its silent length, he felt pretty sorry for himself in his sodden clothes. He figured he would stay a while, see if the rain … Continue reading “…let him come hither.”
Shingle drag beneath shallow wave pages. The lapstrake swings heavily towards him and if it were any rougher, waist-deep in the swell, Knott would surely be pulled beneath it. Sam, flapping his arms, wades from the beach into the surf. Ffooks, bow in both hands, says, get in, get in. Knott pulls himself up over … Continue reading From the beach.
This is another way he remembered her. Her laughter flowered the living room walls causing colours to bloom here and voices, like hot-air balloons, also. Her face framed at the hatch, asking from the kitchen, who’s for dessert. And some of them claimed to be stuffed, but thank you, and some of them, groaning, held … Continue reading The Pear Gateau.
Short story 8 minutes Downfall - short story excerpt
New Brighton - where the sun shines, even when it rains. As he leaves the shadow of the station, Knott is bathed in a sense of being on holiday, of being abroad, of being. The sun shines on New Brighton. He puts on the green shades. The sky is bigger here; the sea birds, unlike … Continue reading New Brighton
The smeared sights, the bright lights – Felling, Hebburn, Pelaw - rushed the windscreen and nearly disappeared into the rear view. Dave passed the patchwork allotment in Jarrow. Sad flags, a surprising number – a Jack, a George, a rainbow, an A in a circle – hung there over wet sheds and plots from plum … Continue reading Looker.
