Stories and Paintings
Ten minutes passed in our small concrete fortress. The air was stuffy. Sweating my arse off under the afternoon sun had gifted me a noticeably stale aroma. Even Rory, usually anointed with a subtle touch of top-shelf aftershave, now had a whiff of old cheese about him. It added an extra unpleasantness to an... Continue Reading →
I assumed this whole British-mafia-boss-coming-to-murder-my-best-friend thing was one of LaShawn’s odd jokes. I don’t always get jokes. I stared at him, awaiting an explanation, but he just nodded, then went and crouched between two nearby bushes and looked about in the fallen leaves and dirt like he was trying to find a lost contact... Continue Reading →
I have a confession to make. I don't what number Superbowl we are up to. And when it comes to reading the year of copyright in the end credits of films, I can never do it. Yes, it's true—I struggle with Roman numerals. I don't say this to garner sympathy, and I certainly don't expect... Continue Reading →
James Fenimore Cooper’s most famous work cuts an epic path through the wild frontiers and forests of eighteenth century North America. Great Britain and France are battling for control of the New World, with each side making allies of Native American tribes. A group commanded by English Major Duncan Heywood is travelling to the fort... Continue Reading →
Miles of sand stretched out before the old man like a haunted path. The distance blurred in a comfortless haze of sea spray and grey clouds. To his left, tall grass rippled in the wind upon the steep hills, and here and there small white flowers swayed atop wispy stems—hundreds of white flowers across the... Continue Reading →
