Category Archives: Fiction

You might say Artemisia sculpts paint. In her latest work she uses plaster, cement, stone and various kinds of resins to make soft looking shapes. Forms that toothpaste might make if you squeezed a series of blobs onto the sink instead of your toothbrush. Continue reading →

“You think standing here talking is advancing the story? What about all these other people you write about? What do they have to say about it?” Continue reading →

Liberty plays under the name ‘Etta Smog’. She has a smile like her Mother’s, worthy of the screens at any multiplex, and speaks in the same soft friendly tones as her Dad. Continue reading →

Diddlie seems perplexed. The subject had put her in a bad mood. Her response to my question left her disoriented. I had forgotten how volatile the issue had become in her mind, though I might have been reminded when reading the news letter that she is concerned about Jake’s huge house. Continue reading →

“If you are so fascinated by that sickening extravagance next door, why didn’t you knock on their door?” Continue reading →

Jake Trip moved into his dream house last year. The steep incline of Oval Street between Boundary Road at the bottom and Wicket street above, passes Trip’s granite faced basement walls as they disappear into the slope. Continue reading →

The waitress interrupted us, with menus. At the same time Lou Waymarsh appears hemmed in behind the waitress and an adjacent table, looking over her shoulder, with his strong square face showing a day’s beard. Continue reading →

She has a blaze of golden rod in her lapel, and there’s some garden soil dried on to the stained knees of her jeans. Continue reading →