1. Walter Thornley

    Private Tindercreek and Tillvale

    The afternoon shivered in collective dreary. Drizzle fell from the sky. A thick fog crept into the folds of the clothes, weighed them down with a chill. Today of all days in particular, the smell of old fires was wafting over from the end street east of the gate. Almost a month has passed since...
  2. Rois Sinclair

    Private Your fangs, and mine

    A voice rose, a cooing, a whimper, an echoing cry beneath the sunlight. Nothing and no-one came to its rescue. The doe with the broken neck ensnared by rope, it careened through the stretches of old-wood trees and tripped about roots like writhing snakes at its hooves, pressed forth and...
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