Prose

 He’ll take the low road, he said. And he’d get to Scotland afore me. Stupid of me not to realise what that meant.   I stop, take off my cap, rake my fingers through my hair. I look back across the hills, towards where I’d buried him, beside the road, under a cross made from […]

  Another 2a.m.   She glares at the green glow of the clock as if it has insulted her personally. She has been in bed for three hours and feels like she has never been so exhausted as in this moment. It bears down on her and she screws up her face as if to […]

by

It rained.   He paused to flick his cigarette away and looked over at the swings and slide. Rain was flowing down the latter in a river, ripples chasing ripples down a sheet of steel grey as the sky.   He felt as if the place should prick some memory, but no playground of his […]

A documentary I watched last night on the Highway of Tears, British Columbia, had me thinking of a new story – and an old one that I’ve a mind to post here. Written for a friend and inspiration, after asking twitter for a prompt. I’m afraid I’ve renamed it since then. ~ * ~ * […]

He burned: flames danced upon his skin, scorched his flesh, yet not a mark was left to show their path. Up his legs they climbed, screaming as they went. – No, it was he who screamed, screamed until he had no breath, and gulped at air that seared his heaving lungs.   He could not […]