well-wisher
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My stories
It Came To Pass... Part I
The nauseous odor of sulfur was the glassy fleshed pimp’s one abiding memory of ‘Firebrat’s Hollow’; the literal ‘underworld’ where Gallowglasswegian
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- 2238 reads
Woman with a telescope.
Curling clouds, of permanent waves, pinned back, her bright eye is pressed against the eye piece; in love with the light that freckles the black, like the freckles constellated on her face.
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- 1457 reads
Talent
Floating across the wasteland came the siren song of the TV head. "You too can be famous! You too can be famous!", it said.
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The Difference Between Stories And Lies
The great storyteller Ansoluman was once asked, by one of his crowd of regular listeners, “Are your stories true?”.
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- 1397 reads
The Komondor
01/06/06 - MONDAY I hate this horrible, grey cubicle. I hate this horrible, grey job. I hate the horrible, dull, stupid, bitchy people who I have to work with. I hate having to phone
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- 1496 reads