Drawn to the light, as all ghosts are, he would stand for hours in a thin finger of sunshine, letting it pierce his heart like a spear of burning gold, shuffling sideways an inch at a time as the earth turned; until the clouds gathered or night fell and he froze into a state of patient expectation.
Category: Those Who Wait
I originally published this tale of inline skating and the supernatural, in November 2020, but realised that it was rubbish, and pulled it. After much scrabbling about, it returned from the dead in June 2024. Some posts relate to the original, catastrophic version.
Lost Hearts
Ever since I was a child, I have been haunted by M.R.James’s tale, Lost Hearts, in which two murdered children return to exact a bloody revenge...
The book in the drawer
My idea of being an author has always been to write a book, rewrite it over and over until it’s perfect… then stick it in a drawer, take it out a couple of years later, rewrite it… and stick it back in the drawer.
The crap first draft
The end of the first draft is just an excuse to make yourself a cup of tea and treat yourself to a biscuit