Last Night

Zoe and I were old school friends. Sweethearts, I guess you could say, but I’d never really thought of us like that. We’d got to know each other really well through our teenage years. At university we’d shared a flat and had become somewhat more than friends: lovers perhaps, certainly intimate. After university, though, we’d drifted apart as our careers took us to different parts of the country. She had moved north to the big city to take on a high-flying role, I had moved south to indulge my love of computers. We talked regularly and met up now and again for weekends away. Read More »


Bed and Breakfast and Bondage

This is a first draft of this story. I’ve got the main ideas down, but I realise it’s not much more than a sketch. That said, enjoy.

A distant, but approaching drawn out crunching sound heralded the arrival of more guests up the long, gravel drive. I clicked the power-button on my computers monitor to turn it off and began making my way downstairs.

The house was a little annoying to get anywhere quickly in. It was a tall, gothic pile – dark grey welsh limestone topped with slate towers. In all there were five bedrooms, but there were almost as many staircases and making ones way around the house invariably involved a trip via the ground-floor entrance hall. I descended the stairs as quickly as my scarlet high-heels and pencil skirt would allow me. Part of me wished that sensible, sturdy carpet runners would look anywhere near as fitting as the polished wood treads.

I arrived in the entrance way just as the heavy wooden front door swung open and my guests stepped in. Read More »

Real Friends

My friend Amalasuntha sent me a writing challenge the other day: 500 words – no more, no less – with a given starting line. As I’ve not done much writing for a while, and because I’m terrible at endings, I took this challenge on. See what you think of the results. Read More »

Layleaux Rail

This is basically a write up of a dream I had last night, in particular Foyce’s outfit and her job of being a Trolley Dolly.

Read More »


I was a young man when I first saw the Phoenix.Yes, the Phoenix, that mythical bird from antiquity. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not talking the Firebird – the beautiful bird whose wings literally are fire, whose beak is a sparkling ember. Nor am I talking about the Thunderbird – the stunning avian whose wings are so vast they stir up storm clouds and elicit peals of thunder from the sky. No, the Phoenix is, to most people just Read More »


This was written as a response to Phoenix‘s challenge to write a story beginning with the following line: My names Tabitha, I work part time at Mrs Clucky’s chicken outlet and before we start I’d just like to say that it wasn’t really my fault.

Read More »

The Cerberus