Hello, and welcome to my new website. Please stay for a bit, have a cup of tea (AKA wine), read some stories, and talk to me. This is the place where stories, news, and ramblings will spring forth from me, like a meandering and sometimes incoherent babbling brook. (Can babble be coherent? We shall find out …
Well, hello. Stop by for a bit, and have a cup of tea with me. Read More »
If I meet someone and they tell me they’re a Twin Peaks fan then I know we can be friends. More so than a love of wine, karaoke, cats, or travel—all of which make me happy—a love of Twin Peaks tells me that you are just that little bit off-centre, and the chances of you …
My dearest Franz I do not know if you will read this letter, but I pray that it will make its way to you and that you will save me. Forgive me if my thoughts sound confused, but it has all happened so fast, and I can no longer lay claim to presence of mind …
“I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, kicking at his chair leg with an unidentifiable part of his anatomy. (She really MUST learn more about his planet.) “I do understand love. I loved my wife so much that I tore out her third heart—the romantic one—and made a pie with it to have at a candlelit dinner.”
“I’ll turn off his light.” I swallow down a creeping scream that, if I let it out, feels as if it would never stop.
I pause at Matthew’s door, and the whispers stop. It’s like they—he—can hear me coming.
When people meet my son they think he is beautiful. Something ancient and cosmic swirls behind those eyelashes, and you will either fall in love or run away, terrified.
I tried talking to them. I told them my name—Michael—and that I meant no harm. Almost redundant when you are the one about to be eaten.
In a blink, the tablecloth has become a hospital sheet—still heavy, and now it is shrouding me instead of the table. Do I need hiding? You are holding my hand, but it’s too tight. I want to squeeze back. “It’s okay,” I am saying. “I’m right here.”
“If I’m in a coma, and I’m a vegetable, then I want you to switch off the machine.”
