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Short story: Searching

When the wind blows at night, sweeping the rocks and gently directing the salty spray of the sea, I can't sleep.

Short story: The Night Sky

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p>I feel like a spaceman at altitude; maybe - I've never been one so I don't know.

Short story: The Artist

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p>My art space is a smooth, flat, white space with a dent right in the middle, where, in a fit of pique, someone may have rammed their fist.

Short story: Waiting



The snow is uneven, slushy, glinting murkily in the tailights of the traffic that lumbers past like shiny red-bottomed elephants on skates and fades into the dark night.

Short story Mission



I creep around the strange room, slowly, painstakingly, like a murderer.

Short story: The Night Watch


Picture for The Night Watch

Through the dark streets they carouse and slide and caper and slither and creep, metamorphising in each streetlight, snatches of snickering song bouncing off the pavements and bitumen and concrete and glass.

Short story: Invitation



Wearing a mask and reeking of gin, the old sailor rolls crocodile tears down his face over the real tattooed ones.

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