The ramshackle place the Professor lived was more garden than house, ivy-coated and sprouting mushrooms. The village called him Professor, though it was years since he'd taught. He was odd – a stranger living as a neighbour. But one night he was in the pub, trading seeds for beer and Ted the farmer decided to indulge... Continue Reading →

Optical Illusions

Mesmerized, Allison (who was seven and three-quarters years old and delighted in telling everyone) watched the glasses. Blue, yellow, and red liquid, all tipped to one side even though the glasses were perfectly straight. She had learned about liquids in school. They weren't supposed to do that. Her nose wrinkled in thought. "Any questions?" asked... Continue Reading →

Old Things and New

Meredith meandered through the miscellaneous items, past wicker chairs, dogeared books, coffee-stained maps, and gleaming clocks that told the wrong time. The market was a place where almost anything was sold, though much less was bought. She stopped by the pumpkin-shaped pottery and stretched out her fingers, brushing across orange paint. "My lady," a voice... Continue Reading →

First Frost

The first of the winter frost clung to the trees as Anaheld walked under the looming branches, carrying firewood in her arms. Little drifts of snowflakes danced around her and her breath clouded in the frigid air. There came a soft sound from the dark trees and Anaheld turned to see a beautiful woman, pale... Continue Reading →

The Fallen Statues

In days of old, the marble statues had lined the streets, painted in colours bold and regal. Hair of gold and silver had hung over the points of their ears and shadows had played over their sharp features. The statues, like their makers, had been beautiful. Nobody argued with that. But their beauty was a... Continue Reading →

Poem – Fate’s Quill

In tower cloud-tall In star-bright sky Where Dream and Destiny meet Mingling in lover's kiss She sits at her desk Ink-black quill in hand Steeped in blood and gold With one stroke, fortune rises With another, doom falls Each letter shaping future In scrawling dark calligraphy Shaped by her pale hand Death she writes Doom... Continue Reading →

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: