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Days and nights in dear old Donegal. Part seven of nine, probably.

The locals called him Charlie Moonhead, but his mother called him Charles. His bottom lip jutted out and he was bald with a cropped strip of hair...

The temptation of an ancient golden coin was more than Willy Perkins could resist — an old mansion with outdated alarms, an aging coin collector, and a cat: easy peasy. So he thought. www.ancientsculpturegallery.com/ancient-aztec-inca-maya-plaque-gold-fini...

‘That’s the author’s signature.’ ‘But how could that be?’ asked Alison. ‘Wasn’t Ernie dead before they printed it?’ ‘Yes, before they even agreed to...

Sometimes I run up the hill, and sometimes I ride Khyber up there. Now I am sitting on the Pen y ffrwd hillside looking out over the long grass of...

A revised earlier poem, somewhat apt for tonight.

Gaze through gossamer of spider's web, other worlds that appear beyond veil most mysterious and nebulous. Hazy amorphous place just out of reach,...

Becoming a grandfather’s such a doddle. I’ve done it three times now without even getting out of the armchair.

Mr. Slate propped the booth door open, the phone pressed to his ear.