She found a low-backed wooden chair and set it by the hearth. “Take off your tunic and sit down. I want to see how bad your cuts are and get them clean.” He unbelted his tunic, then pulled it, and his undershirt, off draping them over the edge of a table to help them dry. …
Just a quick note to say I'm going to be changing the frequency of my posting. For the past few years, I've put stories and snippets up on Wednesday and Sunday evenings (my time). I enjoy sharing these and hope you enjoy reading them, but it's starting to weigh on me as other parts of …
Leanne winced as she heard the voice outside her studio, loud enough that probably didn’t need the phone she was speaking into. Geraldine was coming to keep her company while she worked, again. What that actually meant was that Geraldine would harass her with questions and opinions from the moment she opened the door to …
Alex breathed in and centred himself, if Grandma could chop wood, a hale and healthy man in his twenties would have no problem. The axe felt strange in his hands, warm, heavy in a way that spoke more of possibility than actual heft. The wooden handle worn smooth from years of use, the steel head, …
Grandad was a hoarder. He picked up the oddest things at second-hand shops, and charity places, and car boot sales, always saying. “You never know when something like this will come in handy.” Everything was then taken down to the old shed at the back of the garden, where no one but Grandad ever went. …
Cadan sat up. “There’s a place closer where we can dry off and rest.” Eleanor looked around, at the dense cover of trees and thick undergrowth. “Someone lives near here?” As they began picking their way through the undergrowth, Cadan said. “Not exactly. Lily Smith’s father liked building things, tinkering about, experimenting. Sometimes the results …
Rowena strode down the tower stairs, and through the main courtyard. If her husband had turned to look back at her, she’d have stayed. And he started to. He was going to turn. And then he stopped. Maude had made some sweeping gesture and his attention had moved to her, rather than the wife he …
I got a call from our local locksmith’s assistant, Jeremiah Singh, this morning. Before you ask, his father’s from India, I’m not sure which region, and his mother’s from a long-time local family. They met in town, in a pub, when someone insulted Mr Singh and the now Mrs Singh belted the insulter over the …
Isabelle would have given a great deal to be a fly on the wall at her grandmother’s next grand tea. Just what that ‘great deal’ would have been remained unexplored, as the Dowager Empress showed her the hidden way into her favourite sitting room, already set for a larger-than-usual tea gathering. The hidden way included …
Every now and again, I go through Ursula Le Guin's book on writing Steering the Craft and do some of the exercises in there. It was the first fine day since he’d arrived on the island, his first chance to get out and breathe. To walk, and think, and escape the suffocating care of his …
The DNA of Stories 