The Other Side of Madness…

"You know," a friend confessed, "my writing was much better when I was suffering." We were talking about breakdowns. The terrible journey we had taken from the staright path of normality. Some years back, we had both hit our walls. We were both in professions that indicated our public spirit and quests to improve things.... Continue Reading →

Do Not Suffer A Witch…

We tended to do most of our shared work after the sun had fallen. Old Leather seems to like it that way. It’s amazing what can evade notice in such a place as this. Imagine, if you will, a corpse strolling along any major high-street in any town or city in the UK, and then... Continue Reading →

Out with the old…

Being a Scrooge at Christmas is nothing to be proud of, or to apologise for. As far as I know, having reservations about this great festive break is perfectly legitimate. I was saying to my wife, before Christmas kicked-off, that we should not try our best to create an occasion that is 'perfect'. Christmas and... Continue Reading →

Writing about character…

I thought I would share these two extracts that were written many years apart. My character, Liam Flowers has changed and grown. He still carries the scars of his previous incarnation. Older and wiser, he cannot escape his narrative arc. From The Piper Book of Hearts Liam Since he had moved in with The Leatherman,... Continue Reading →

Lost Christmas. The End.

I wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted to say that I had been wandering the corridors of sleep. I wanted to say that there was a ghost in my life. “If I’m honest, I would say that life is treating me badly.” That’s what I wanted to say. The morning had started badly.... Continue Reading →

Driving Dirty…

I was going to wash the car this morning but then it decided to rain. Days do that to you. They watch you like nosey neighbours who have a grudge. They try to second-guess you so that they can put a nail in your plans. So now the rain is falling and the car is... Continue Reading →

Lost Christmas…9

The nights are cold. There is never enough warmth from the others. There are times when I think that they must not notice me. I walk so close to the walls that I have become accustomed to mixing with shadows. The kiosk man sees me. The boy came on the second night of the falling.... Continue Reading →

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