From Rosewood Cottage

Turn back! The doors are bolted and boarded up. Stay away! Smeared, filth-encrusted rotten windows are half-disguised by tea-brown moth-gnarled net curtains. Don’t approach! The pathway is jagged. That’s not an anguished wan child’s face at the attic window. No! Turn back. Help us. Run away! There’s no story here.

The Ice-Breaker

“There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’ ”.

“But there’s a ‘me’, ” I pointed out.

“You’re on thin ice,” he barked.

“If the ice is indeed thin, then this company is seriously breaching health and safety regulations.”

He fired me. Shards of metaphorical ice splintered beneath my non-metaphorical brogues. And it felt beautiful.

Hector Heard God

Hector heard God. When least expected… but most needed. The unmistakable voice dripping intravenously into his brainspace, booming, “Stop! Don’t end your life!”

Hector stepped back, flabbergasted, dizzy with adrenaline and rapturous bafflement as the unexpected unbalancing cocked him over the edge of CityPoint. He fell; weeping, laughing, screaming, praying.

The Trip

Forced into spirals of my own undoing, I rented a room and waited. They arrived, with no intention of leaving empty-handed. I played hard to get for, like, minutes, then handed it over. When they said I had to die, I muttered, “Sure. You too.” I trip the switch…. KABOOOOOOOM.


The Break-In

My toddler locked himself in, so I smashed the bathroom window and squeezed in. The police showed and arrested me. I explained the misunderstanding and thought to present some documents. But I had none. Then my wife said she didn’t know who I was.

I shall try another house tonight.

Raggy and chums