Red Shoes: Part Four.

I stared down at a grasshopper crawling through the blades of green. “May I ask what’s so funny?” “You.” “Can you explain?” “That’s why I’m here.” “Well that’s a relief.” “It’s time.” “Time for what?” “Closure. Or, if you like,...

Red Shoes: Part Three

This consisted of a tiny glass fronted cabinet filled with tomes donated by locals and tourists alike. The following morning, I recalled both dreams, but without the trepidation that the former usually brought. It was Monday, here in France, worse than Sunday. For...

Red Shoes: Part Two

A combination of modern technology and brilliant innovation had combined to produce an appliance in which everyone could become involved. That evening, I joined my surrogate family for a very special dinner – Raclette. I used to cringe when I thought of Raclette...

Red Shoes:

with the other leg bent and her foot flat against her calf. My thrice daily walk took me around the village in which I’d laid my cap, following a broken heart. I never tired of the traditional Breton architecture, from the imposing church and its enclosure or...

Spirits: Chapter Ten.

Museo National De La Muerte. The crow landed at Jim’s feet again and curtsied like a widow in mourning. Jim was mesmerised by the bird and the document he’d just read, the one he’d written when his wife was alive. He recalled the circumstances behind the strange tale...