It is said, that at some point in their career, all true artists must confront their demon. Whether or not I belong to that small group is for others to say, nevertheless, the confrontation came. I vaguely recall it being a small, off-putting creature, with glossy serpentine skin and an array of eyes like that of a devious spider. I had not been expecting it, awaking to find it perched on my chest, sniffing my face. A vile little gargoyle with a startling voice. It was quite the sophisticate and it wasn’t long before we were negotiating a contract. My desire was plain, Immortality, but I knew demons were cunning and so I stated my provisos. No harm was ever to come to me, I would live forever, I would not age past the age I was, which was thirty eight years. The creature took the deal.
I did not tell my dear wife, nor my children, of my dark pact. I suffered to watch them grow old, to die. While these were dismal moments, I just took it as a lesson not to get close to others. A rule I …

Hattie and Grandfather Clock

From the moment she could think, Hattie Gardiner knew she was a special child. This was not because her mother and father were fabulously wealthy, in a town where most people were poor. Rather, Hattie knew she was special because everything was easy, too easy. A timid child, pale and dark eyed, Hattie seemed strange to other children and did not make friends easily which was in itself odd. Everything else she tried to do she picked up with an almost supernatural ability, whether it be learn a language or play the piano, or figure out complex mathematical problems. Hattie was a special child, born with a gift and the knowledge that one day she would be very, very important indeed.
The problem was that Hattie grew bored so easily. Three weeks of learning the flute had been enough to overtake her tutor's talents and so she'd decided she'd learned enough about that subject and became hungry for another interest to devour.
One day she and her mother were in the city and they pass…


Trying to find the right word to describe the feeling he had when driving down these dark lonely roads at night, Greg had settled on ‘unsettled’. He wasn’t happy with it. The word didn’t seem to convey the sheer complexity of emotional hues he experienced. There was a touch of dread, a shade of defiance, a hint of anticipation mixed in along with several others; a sense of the uncanny; a suggestion of being overwhelmed by the enormity of those hidden plains and invisible hills out beyond the windscreen, in the dark. These roads were not only eerie, but dangerous. Narrow, with sharp slopes looming over them and steep ones falling away into blackness below. Weaving through this treacherous hillside led to single lane road which cut through the forest. The headlight beams scraped the ancient, dry brick walls.
Tinagulen Pass, a little scar, a convenient shortcut. While definitely short, it was also a risky proposition. Though the road itself was a straight mile through the woods, it acted …

Weegie Board

The party had shifted phase from hedonistic revelry to oncoming hangover. It was late, everyone was past drunk, moving onto tired, their pulsing throb in their heads had replaced the thumping techno that had banged on through the previous hours. It was quiet now, all the lightweights had left around two and so there were only a few left. Ricky, Billy and Tim had dropped acid around nine and the three of them still were outside, lying on the damp square of grass, looking at the stars, talking incomprehensible shite and waiting for the sun to rise or the apocalypse, perhaps both. It had been hard to get much sense out of them. Stuart was upstairs with Diane, the two of them were fucking each others brains out, and in the living room sat Ronnie, Mick, Sally and Steve, still alert at this late hour, fuelled by lines of cocaine.
They’d been classmates and pals since primary school and all the way through secondary. Now it was all over, school ended the day before, forever, it was time to mo…

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