The first was a flat tyre. Tim rolled up in good time, wrench in hand, smile in place. “Knights of the Road.” She laughed with relief. In her forties, bottle-blonde highlights. Hint of desperation that predated, he guessed, the roadside… Continue Reading
Cowering — the small girl blends with nighttime bark and organic shadow. Whimpers rise like bird calls. She could be a tree stump, hidden behind black-curtain hair and a long-sleeved shirt pulled over her knees. A heavy man walks past… Continue Reading
I must say that my initial impression of Phillip Fletcher was a favorable one. I believed that he was what might be called blessedly ignorant. He had no idea whatsoever that his father was involved with what the papers were… Continue Reading