Category: Whimsical Prose

The man, the bird and a sinister beach

It’s not, of course. There is just a man, there is a bird and a mysteriously lit stretch of sand. But the man – dark coat, collar up, intent on his descent… is there a gun in that pocket? Surely, he has no reason to be going down to the beach in what is clearly an early winter evening lit by the moon hiding … Read More The man, the bird and a sinister beach

Old and grey, and Father Time

When I am old and grey, and Father Time has had his wretched way with all the bits that move no more… I will live in a simple dwelling like this top floor, with endless sea beyond the veranda’s edge, and mountains to the other side, behind the cluttered bookshelf that used to be a windowsill. And Mags will feed me, not because she … Read More Old and grey, and Father Time

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