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Appliances don't laugh at you is Geoff's logic. The appliances are his only friends and he is fighting the tide of new and hi-tech technology with little success. Odd stuff - a unique idea.

A series of observations and overheard conversations of people on the train

You wanted a present, a perfect story, gift-wrapped with a shiny ribbon: a beginning, a middle, an end. A resolution - the kind neatly ties things up, not the New Year's kind that is made to be broken. I couldn't find the right kind of wrapping paper. I had to make do with something too bright, too garish, with big-footed clowns walking all over it. The bow was clumsy and too big. The words I wrote on the gift tag were cliched. But worse, when I picked up the box to hand it to you I heard a rattle from inside. I knew straight away: my story, carefully crafted over so much time, was too fragile and thin, and it shattered into pieces before it got to you. I thought about putting it back together again. Then I thought about sweeping up the fragments and throwing them away in disgust. Then I sat with them spread before me, and studied them. I grew to like them. They had jagged edges, they were chipped in places, but they made me smile. So I have started to put them together to make a new story, a crooked, misshapen one. There are gaps where sometimes the pieces don't fit very well, and the light shines right through them. There is an ending, followed by an introduction, a footnote. I don't think I will wrap it when I'm finished, or tie it up with ribbon, but I will offer it to you anyway: my imperfect tale.

Political Thriller with a strong female lead, first chapter of a full novel.

It sounds fantastic, but this is a fact... somewhere in west Africa, where marine and occultic powers are real. And in this rather bizzare saga, the perpetrator, unfortunately, meets his doom.

A Woman becomes obsessed with trying to figure out what her boss is thinking.

The first time I saw the ferry building we'd been travelling eleven hours to see the island where we thought we might live together for the first...

I was at a junction turning right today when I saw her. Fumbling with a magazine on the passenger seat, trying to get a free CD off the cover, half...

author's note: This is written in response to Henry Vaughan's "The Retreat," which is a classic from somewhat after the English renaissance. It can be found at http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/vaughan/retreat.htm