One night, while Mitchell had been trying to sleep in his car, the woman from the flat upstairs had passed him on the street. She went in through her front door, but after five minutes she returned, knocking upon the passenger's side window. 'There's no room for you to stay, but at least I can … Continue reading Good Man
Category: Fiction
Shoes
Only when Mitchell had walked down the stone steps did he realise that the whole bay was covered with shoes, thousands and thousands of shoes. One of the policeman stood on the sands at the bottom of the steps, ordering the prisoners to collect as many as possible before the tide turned. No word about … Continue reading Shoes
The Port
'The port smelled like nowhere else in Arkanar. It smelled of saltwater, rotten pond scum, spices, tar, smoke, and old salted meat; the taverns reeked of cooking, fried fish, and stale beer. The humid air was thick with swearing in many languages. Thousands of strange-looking people thronged on the piers, in the narrow alleys between … Continue reading The Port
Time Signature
An explosion echoed across the bay. The reports of the aftershock caught against the flank of the building, rebounded along the rough edges of coastline, rippling back into the car park like discussions of bad news. On his drive along the coast, Mitchell had passed the turning for a quarry, the trucks grimed with white … Continue reading Time Signature
Emperor Court
You reach Emperor Court along a new road, a dreamy petrol-blue expanse, cutting wide and perfect across a delta of wild marshland. You turn off the main coastal route and keep the remains of a village behind you: the closed up service station, the vacant play park and roadside café, the row of yellow terraced … Continue reading Emperor Court
Scenes From The Island
I started this blog to defend a particular point. An oblique point, perhaps, and one which I more or less discovered as I went along. In part, I wanted to preserve some old published and unpublished writing, and find a space to think aloud about books and writing. All of that led me to grapple … Continue reading Scenes From The Island
Crossroads
We drove out to the old routes, the old roads, the paths across woodland and beyond the railway line, the fields where silage had been sealed in rolls of black plastic, a squat redbrick church, an old manor house converted to a retreat for affluent addicts. I remembered how we would often rove (that word, … Continue reading Crossroads
