It was an odd summer that year to say the least. The heat was oppressive, the jubilance of the start of the season and return to work were short lived. The big steel contracts had ended, and shifts were returning to normal hours and pay. Out in farm country draught had blight had run rampant and the only beer and ale on draft was weaker than water and just as sour.
Read MoreThere was an old glass maker who lived down the lane. Everyone knew who him, and for as long as anyone could remember he had always been old. He was one of those tired little old men when you could never imagine being young. His shop was on the ground floor of the crooked house on the corner and he lived in the small apartment above that leaned at a funny angle. The roof had been patched up more times then anyone could count, and it creaked and shook when the wind howled along the ram shackle street.
Read MoreThe wind blew restlessly through the trees and the moon hung low and orange in the night sky. An old wooden shutter banged repeatedly against the side of the dilapidated house before me. Slowly I drew my flashlight and cautiously approached the house. There had been several reports of disturbances in the neighbourhood over the last few days and this house appeared to be at the centre of things.
Read MoreMy neighbour Small is a strange and squirrely fellow. I often see him puttering around his garden muttering to his plants and kicking the weeds. There has always been something off about him. He exudes a vaguely creepy vibe and the comments he makes often come from nowhere.
Read MoreThe girl in the moonlight danced slowly and rhythmically to the haunting music. She danced for no one but herself. Her movements were not one of seduction or lust but those of joy and oneness with the moment.
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