the air stirs with rumour of the submarine halved in the harbour. brows furrow and palm-flattened charts appear. below the sheltered walls, an aria - an iron-throated chorister. archaic; rises, floats, fades, and disappears. (photo: nick reeves - south shields pier)
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.
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
