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watercolour castle swimming in the aching air cartoon constructions stark and bare a paint smear whisper in the sharp daylight and headache hum of...

Continued From Part 1 Then, as I made my way, I passed a stall of grilling sausages. The aroma of them took me back to an evening in the third week...

Alone in their bedroom, or so they struggled to believe, Davin yearned to touch Pry. But every time he reached out to her, he saw, in his mind, a...

Chapter Six. Finn Learns About Dragons. Finn washed his face and ate the food Rose had brought. He tried the door, just in case, it was definitely...

My favourite colour is of course Brown, every shade of Brown! A darkish brown eyed brunette my idea of an angel! A very special angel. A common,...

September 4th I hate him. I really do, and I'm not saying it big to make it sound worse than it is. It wasn't even that much. Mrs. Calloway lost it,...

“What? No.” There was a stillness about her demeanour, a coldness he had until now managed to see past. But there it was. Her eyes, ice spheres. Hate...

Chapter Forty-Three McCain hammered the driver’s wheel in frustration. So the bitch had provided the lead, had somehow guessed his men’s destination...

*/ This poem is an ekphrastic description of Turner's wonderful painting 'The Shipwreck' which I once gazed at for a very long time in the Tate Gallery, marvelling at the depths of the colour green he had created to depict a violent sea swallowing up broken ships and desperate men.