what follows is a selection of short stories, carefully selected for your delectation . . .
A Good Day
Wordsworth was having a good day. It was probably the finest day he’d ever experienced. Really, quite excellent. Well, as far as could be said for days spent in Tameside.
Her beauty was the first thing I saw. The only thing I saw. Her eyes captivated me, threatening to never release me. Irises blue and as fatal as the ocean, promising to hold me under her sea and drown me. She was much older than me, and though her features were worn and stiff, she was perfect . . .
The mirror was my harlot, my whore, my plaything to tease in the dark and fondle with my eyes. The reflection looked like me, it even moved like me, but we were not the same . . .