Read my latest stories. Enjoy multiple genres of writing from the selector to read exactly what suits your taste.

Tonight:

from a crisp, flaming vermilion to a tattered terracotta. How often have we seen it, the open triangle of unrequited love, flapping like a Tibetan prayer flag in the Himalayan wind. No hope of closure,...

The Quiet Wedding:

"What, you've got cat bells on a dress?" This story came to me just before COVID, following a conversation with a lovely couple with whom I was sharing a table in my local micro pub The Dog and Rabbit. I...

The Broken Doll: Chapter Eleven.

He unwrapped the package to reveal the doll. Tahir ibn 'Abdallah was not a man to get on the wrong side of. His temper was lightning quick and his patience, non-existent. His Excellency possessed narcissism...

ThevBroken Doll: Chapter Ten. (Missing Chapter).

She felt his obvious arousal as he placed her on the torn cushions. Tahrir placed both hands on Soraya's head pulling her towards him. He glared at Mustafa. "That will be all. Prepare to move out. The tree...

Three Words: Part Three.

He looked up at the display, waiting for it to turn to English. He could neither believe his action nor her compliance with it. As she took a seat beside him, he felt her thigh brush his. Instantly, he...

Three Words. Part Two.

She watched him gaze around at all of the things she took for granted She took a seat on the train, just like all of the others, only she wasn’t like them, the others. Fair enough, she looked like them, same...

Three Words:

The train pulled in at the terminus and the flood of apathy drained out... They each knew three words. Like a baby in its first few months of life. Hello - こんにちは Thank you - ありがとう Goodbye - さようなら Yet,...

Don’t Stop Believin’

The Old Mill: Vincent Van Gogh. Yes, a four minute song that waits three minutes and twenty seconds to sing the title lyrics… I say wait but it's more than that. Like the Small Town Girl and the City Boy, in...

The Bluebottle:

He eyed the six legs spread out below the chunky iridescent abdomen, covered by the two lace wings. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, as he opened the door. Like a bird in the sky, flying past the...

Clouds:

The clouds in Brittany were like no other he’d witnessed before. Every time he took the bus home he’d notice them. It was so difficult to get a decent photograph from the window of the moving bus. Just as the...

Home Again:

I woke the next morning to a beautiful sunrise over the English Channel and a €6.50 breakfast deal of coffee, croissant and orange juice. I don’t like driving long distances, especially in the UK. So, I...

Perfection:

La Cabané á livres, the notice read, on the side of the structure. The Book Shed. Bernard returned to his adopted town to discover that they had adorned the square in front of the Marie with AstroTurf and...

A Meeting Without a Future: New Chapter Two

“Where are you now?” Her sister asked in a furtive whisper on the other end of the line. “You know where I am, Paris. Why are you whispering?” Jena Hussein replied, wheeling her suitcase through the slalom of...

A Meeting Without a Future: Chapter One.

The old woman was struggling with her oversized case, a seemingly  passive audience looking on. Geneva station was crowded with passengers single mindedly focussed on their impending journeys. All ...

The Stone: Final Part.

As usual, she’d looked the wrong way Of the five cars lined up outside the bar, I recognised three as belonging to the first visitors to the beach. I assumed the other two were attached to five and six....

The Stone: Part Three.

...he immediately set about drawing lines on the sand, using a small stick The human skeletons in hiking gear overtook the obliging couple and approached the stone. The man allowed his wife to touch it first,...

The Stone: Part Two.

Its appearance was alien too, seeming to be unlike no other stone I’d seen before, both naturally occurring or man made. There, prone on the aforementioned beach towel, ws the beast with two backs. The...

The Stone: Part One.

Like two gnarled hands, they presented the bay to the relentless waves like a gift. I pulled Shimamoto into the small car park at the far side of my favourite beach, St Jean du Doigt. It was early so the...

Finding Me:

As I write this on the ferry from Roscoff to Plymouth, watching the coastline that I have become as intimate with than any woman... I often wonder why I ended up here in Brittany, (apart from the...

The Old Lady With the Cats: Conclusion.

“Yes. Can you believe it? His grandad knew your grandad,” “You brought it. All the way here,” she whispered as if she didn’t want her feline companions to hear. “Yes,” he replied simply. Placing the book on...

The Old Lady With the Cats: Part Two.

Instead he took something from his bag. The intricately carved wooden door featured a cat-flap in the bottom right-hand corner, into which the steady stream of small creatures disappeared. As the opening...

The Old Lady With the Cats:

“Do you smoke?” The tout said, avoiding the question. “Excuse me, can you tell me where the old lady lives? The one with the cats?” Kenzie asked the man selling cigarettes on the street corner. The vendor was...

Falling in Love Again, (Never Wanted To).

“This time next year, you’ll win the hundred metres gold medal at the Olympic Games" When I informed friends and family that I was moving to France, the most popular response I received was along the lines...

A Bird in the Bush:

Nevertheless, my experience turned the meme on its head The two men each pulled up a stool to the counter of the strangely named Bar Norway. There was nothing remotely Scandinavian about the establishment,...

The Diamond: Conclusion.

Bandile never played cricket again but... DeBeers Building, Johannesburg. Solomon Mbele stared at the monitor, his pride still stinging from his humiliation at  the bitch’s hand. The image moved back and...

The Diamond: Part Nine. Bandile’s Dream.

the diamond disappears, the emeralds that are her own eyes, replacing it. Bandile’s sleep is no longer the dark shapeless form of the previous two weeks. It is accompanied by images for the first time....

Sunday and Angels:

The beautifully crafted building is highlighted by a Celtic cross Yesterday, Sunday 24th March 2024, I was brought back to earth in more ways than one. Those of you who are members of the "magic twelve"...

The Diamond: Part Eight.

...she crouched and held open the flap, pushing a bundle of glossy flyers through which slapped onto the floor inside. Of course it was gone. Solomon wasn’t as thick as he looked. Nevertheless, he'd been...

The Diamond: Part Seven.

"What do you want, Immi?” He cuts to the chase and is presented with his reward. Bandile, are you here?” The voice is sharp and familiar, slicing through his waking moment. ‘I’m here. Where else would I...

The Fly and the Earworm:

I skirted the coastline, zigzagging in and out of tiny coves and emerging onto huge secret beaches with nobody around. I probably enjoyed the best day so far today. My planned eight and a half kilometre walk...

The Diamond: Part Six.

"...I wonder if you would care to look at the CCTV footage.” Leone Van Kirk placed the bundle into the cistern of the toilet. Something was troubling her. She needed to speak to her father, but without the...

Missing: Full Story

January 15th, in the year of our Lord, 1998. Ploubazlanec, Brittany. The battered 2CV Fourgannette bounced into Ploubazlanec village square. The two cylinder Boxer engine coughed, then died.  “Will this...

Safe:

BOOK BOX! I haven't accompanied recent stories with a blog and for good reason. Even though I am still having amazing experiences, I didn't want to share them. I feel sometimes it hurts me and other people....

The Diamond: Part Five.

...their stethoscopes worn like medals around their necks. Present Day. Having rejoined the land of the living, Bandile began to consider his circumstances. He studied his luxury surroundings, while recalling...

The Diamond: Part Four.

Two weeks earlier, DeBeers Building, Johannesburg, South Africa. Leone VanKirk was the first to see the giant enter DeBeers’ reception. Her finger hovered over the panic button. However, the security guard...

The Diamond: Part Three

the banks of machinery were difficult to ignore. This is a sequel to a two part story written four years ago, of which most of you are familiar. If not they're here......

A Tough Day and a New Chapter (In more Ways Than One).

The Today was challenging , to say the least. On the face of it, I found my ideal new home. Affordable, beautiful, peaceful, the lot. So, why did it leave me with more questions than answers? The reason? The...

Ships Two, Chapter One.

Nick enters the cafe, all silent, he sees the bowed head, the small figure, looking smaller than ever. This was written in March 2021, following the completion of the first novel. In it, Jena and Nick reflect...

Missing: Final Part.

She led him to a small cottage on the outskirts of the village. “Are you sure you want to do this? You didn’t seem very happy yesterday,” João asked of his beautiful companion. They crossed the village...

Two Steps Back:

I managed to get a prime spot overlooking the lakez Have you ever been so excited about something that you are inevitably disappointed when the occasion eventually comes around? It has happened to me several...

Missing: Part Six.

The small space was economically furnished with a desk, chair and cabinet. The boy opened his eyes to a sea of faces. They all had the same swarthy appearance, large brown eyes and jet black hair. Although...

A Step Closer.

...an apartment in a converted former Catholic girls' school. The possibility of living the dream did just that when an email appeared in my inbox. “Retire to France - Apartments to Rent with Lake Views.” The...

Missing: Part Five.

Drowning. So this was what it was like. "Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost - again,” Marie said to the shadow that was João. The young man was unable to reply, instead, reverting to vague...

Old Railways and Hawaiian Food:

Known as the Voie Vert, or Green Way, this stretch of path runs 20 km from Carhaix, north to the centre of Morlaix. I love a good walk, especially these days, when it's flat. The ideal location for this is a...

Missing: Part Four.

He counted twenty on one hand and one extra on the other. Blisters erupted on both of Jean’s hands, in every imaginable place. He counted twenty on one hand and one extra on the other. They became his babies,...

Bonne Journée:

All of this was presented by people who clearly loved their produce and were by no means pushy. Today was, as they say in these parts, a bonne journée, a good day. Like a delicious meal, None of it was...

Missing: Part three

There were five candle bulbs with bases that resembled the real thing. João took the phone from his coat pocket and put his bag down. He held up the handset and took a photograph of the stone. Checking to...

Operation Overbeer:

Resembling a cross between library and a launderette, Yesterday turned out to be an interesting experience. The journey went like clockwork, well I had taken two hours to plan a forty-five minute bus journey....

Missing: Part Two.

They were all there to greet him on the quay, his two uncles Antoine and Bernard and his four cousins “It’s time.” The voice cut through the thickness of his dream. A warm knife through butter. He felt both...

Beer!

Yesterday, I found such a place, where a kind man explained how to make Picon beer. The one down side of the rural nature of this region is the distance between watering holes. The fragmented public transport...

Missing: Part One.

The two cylinder Boxer engine coughed, then died. The battered 2CV Fourgannette bounced into Ploubazlanec village square. The two cylinder Boxer engine coughed, then died.  “Will this do young man?” The...

Good Morning:

I feel a gentle nudge, but I am already awake. “Good morning.” “Good morning.” “How is it today?” “Different.” “Good.” She's made an effort, not that it's needed. She's beautiful the way she is. Natural, I...

Bones: Part Five.

The young man stood at the entrance, took the tickets and indicated the seat to each attendee. Just before midnight on Thursday April first 1897, the streets of Paris were quiet. All that could be heard were...

Memories:

Not much of an offering on this page today. Although I hope you enjoy where nineteenth century Paris is going. As for Brittany, not even this paradise can counter the blues that still, however infrequently,...

Bones: Part Four.

Gaston unfolded himself to see a tall Gendarme towering above them both. The following morning, Gaston made his way to the house on Rue Thibaud, with some trepidation. The old butler was not only greedy, but...

Waves:

...spilling off the other side like tea off a saucer. I want to tell you about a period of about five minutes today, where I was lost in another world. The cause? Waves. I'm sure most of us have visited the...

Bones: Part Three.

“Accept.” You are cordially invited to attend a concert on behalf of the six million souls exhumed and deposited under this city in the name of progress. You will be treated to modern classical music from...

A Fickle Lass:

...akin to a magical bridge. Brittany, as beautiful and as fickle as the prettiest girl. Full of charm but equally contemptuous to those taking her for granted. Take this morning for example. I woke at six,...

Bones: Part Two.

...in a stem glass with a silver knife balanced on the rim, on witch stood a large piece of sugar. The boy entered Lapérouse on the Quai des Grand Augustins. He stood out like a fly in a lemon tart. A...

Home Again:

I walked to the lapping waves at St-Jean-du-Doigt to clean the mud from the Catacombs off my trainers Following a week of almost constant drinking in the UK and a further week touring Paris with Joe, the time...

Bones:

in between thumb and forefinger, gripped a small envelope bearing a seal. The doorbell rang at 13 Rue Thibaud and François, the butler of the house, tutted so loudly it echoed through the hallway. “Who can...

Not Quite:

My love affair with Paris was rekindled by my inherent procrastination. The only train I could catch home left at 6.38 am on Sunday, for Morlaix. I booked the Ibis at This meant I couldn't stay at Charles...

Atlantic Garden:

Le Jardin Atlantique was situated on the roof of the station they had just left and was meant to depict the countryside of the Brittany region of France. The couple entered the concourse of the Gare du...

It’s Over!

So, now I've ended it once and for all. Yes, at last , it's over. I finally have closure. She haunted me, chased me, caught me then turned on me in the most unpleasant way. So, now I've ended it once and for...

My Little Flower: Part Five.

However, one could make out that the hooded thief was slightly built, almost definitely a youth. Steve zipped up the bag and headed back to the hotel. The same black cloud, of gloom, that of his waking, ...

A Bit of a Dead Day:

...the bones of millions of souls stop the city from collapsing in on itself. Please excuse the pun, but sometimes it's good to avoid the living of Paris and visit the dead. Yesterday was the day we did just...

My Little Flower: Part Four.

The stricken corpse of Notre Dame towered above them That night, Steve had a vivid dream. His newly discovered siren was the star turn. Her presence didn't fade following their second encounter, in fact it...

Paris Fatigue:

Within a full day, you're bloated, nauseous and craving the peace and quiet of Brittany. Paris can be exhausting. Especially for a sixty-five year old arthritic teenager. It's like being served with a huge,...

My Little Flower: Part Three.

At that moment he passed the monumental stairs of Marseille St. Charles railway station. Steve closed the book. The action was accompanied by a dragging feeling of melancholy, as if the last few minutes...

Le Building Site:

one of which was my favourite multi-tasking spot, Numero 10. We had a very tasty smash burger. At this moment, Paris is the biggest building site in Europe. Why? Thank the International Olympic Committee....

My Little Flower: Part Two.

...she said, before getting up and leaving. Steve's attention was drawn back to his notebook as the swarthy crowd threatened to envelop his beautiful siren. The last words stunned him. Had he written that? It...

Raising the Bar:

When you get her home, she's all you imagined and more Creativity is underestimated in some people. While others are destined to appreciate their creations, they pursue perfection. Last night , I tasted...

Ma Petite Fleur:

Marseilles was like a foreign city to him. Steve was sitting outside a café on the Rue des Catalans overlooking the beach of the same name. Even though he was a card-carrying Francophile, Marseilles was like...

The Pub:

Not much of a blog today, thanks to my self inflicted condition. That's the problem with visiting briefly, a place you once called home. That little beacon of community spirit, known as The Dog and Rabbit, is...

The Metaphor: Final Part.

He opened the barn and was shocked The young woman was sick of them. The constant flow of men. Like a human conveyor belt. Why couldn't they leave her alone? “This one has two degrees. That one is a dentist....

Home from Home:

My home-from-home is the Travelodge at the Cobalt. A while ago, I asked what home meant to you. Finally, I think I have the answer. Did you ever get that feeling, when on holiday? You come home and, within a...

The Metaphor: Part Six.

His attention turned to the little rose bush in the front garden.. Guilt followed the old may in the days to come. His conversation with the plant pushed to the back of his mind. He knew all of this was...

Friends and Family:

Some people are totally ignorant of the consequences of their actions. Well, here I am in Blighty for several days, a bittersweet time for me. Sweet because I get the chance to see my favourite people and, on...

The Metaphor: Part Five.

He kissed the tiny bud at the end of the top limb. “We're going to have a flower," whispered Mikel, a quiver in his voice. He thought back to the many times when his late wife would come downstairs shaking...

Stupidland:

Then there's Priority Boarding. That premium service which, at Charles Degaulle, lets you get on the shuttle bus first, and off last. What is it about airports that turns the most level-headed person into...

The Metaphor: Part Four.

From watching the Christian Martyrs throwing themselves to the lions, to observing Buddhist monks setting themselves on fire. “As I said, Mikel, I wasn't always a seed. I was born in nineteen-ninety-three,...

Heading Back.

. Well, where did those three weeks go? It's true what they say about time flying, I've enjoyed every minute. (minus the two days on the throne). It's strange how turning my life on its head has had such a...

The Metaphor: Part Three.

where the soil had fallen away, a faint trace of light green. Every morning for the following week the old man greeted the seed with a crisp “good morning,” with no response. Each day, a slice was shaved off...

Cars: And Part Two.

A quarter of a million Euro French invention, replacing four Albanians. The French have always been different, in their attitude to cars, from us British. Fiercely loyal, highly protectionist, I remember...

The Metaphor: Part Two.

“Got you,” he called, lifting a terracotta pot above his head like a trophy. The farmer stared at the two oval weals on the leathery skin of his arm. They grew redder by the second, like a ripening peach. The...

Mondays and Utility Bills:

As Bob Geldof wrote in his dubious tribute to the mass murderer Brenda Spencer Two things occurred today which, in my previous life, I never really relished. I wouldn't say I was in a minority in this...

The Metaphor :

He took another handful of yellow grains from his bag and scattered them with a giant arc of his arm. This short tale comes from a conversation yesterday which, like it's subject, planted the seed… *** The...

Dicky Tummy and Tisane

Monplaisir, (or was it Mondésir?). She owns both. “I must stop trying to eat what the French eat,” I said on my umpteenth trip to the smallest room. I'd almost worn out the carpet between there and my bedroom...

Bus? What bus?

Is that Wednesday only? Yes but only on a school day... Yesterday, I spent a wonderful day on the beautiful island of Callot , with its ancient chapel, exquisite beaches and causeway, which like our own...

Sesame Seed: B’Ar Iniz.

Hotel Ar Iniz, St Malô Silence swept through the background hum of the dining room as if a blanket had been carefully spread over it. From one side of the room to the other, heads turned in wonderment. As the...

Spring and Sardines:

Following a weekend where Brittany showed me it's meteorological teeth, in the form of high winds and horizontal rain, I was pleasantly surprised by the view from my window on Monday. Spring seemed to have...

Sesame Seed: Daybreak.

Backlit by this light show was the solitary Phare de Grand Jardin  Lighthouse, rising majestically from the sea. “I HATE YOU!” Blackboard. “No you don’t”, Tony whispered to himself as he stumbled along the...

Back. Not Home:

“When are you coming home?” Someone asked me, who shall remain nameless. “Home?” I replied. “Where is that exactly?” ‘Well, here, of course. You know. Whitley Bay, the North East. Your roots,” came the...

Sesame Seed: The Ferry.

Storm clouds were gathering as they boarded the ferry at Portsmouth bound for St Malo and Tony didn't mean the meteorological kind. The weather was fine and dry with the odd wispy cloud dusting the clear blue...

Do I Smell of Wood Smoke?

Alain had been invited to the monthly gathering of the Irish music ensemble France is a paradox of a country, with the sophistication of city culture in places such as Paris and Rennes, and the idyllic rural...

Sesame Seed: The Bruce Building.

That one she called The 70s. It was two weeks before Tony heard from her again. His phone rang and her exquisite features graced its screen. “Hello Princess. How are you? Are you settling in?” He tried not to...

What Difference a Week Makes:

It seems like an age since I was ploughing the lonely furrow to the Dog and Rabbit to drown the past in Almasty Session Time is a strange phenomenon. They call it the fourth dimension, the only form of travel...

Sesame Seed: Airport.

The machine spat out a ticket like a child's tongue in the school playground. Tony was late. Grabbing it through the open window, he threw it onto the empty passenger seat of the Subaru; the seat which would...

Day Nine: I’ve Stopped Counting the Days!

Accompanied by a café au lait and a huge chunk of blood orange cake... "What's the weather like?" She asked. "White people mild. It's 12°," I replied, "9° warmer than Whitley Bay." "That's nice. How does that...

Sesame Seed: Arrival.

The alarm sounded on the lonely bedside clock, in vain, as Tony was already awake and preparing breakfast. In fact, he was ahead of it by over an hour, during which time he had checked the flight arrivals at...

Day Eight: Misfortune.

The following morning, the forecast was partially realised when I opened my bedroom window to a fine drizzle, almost a mist. Before we start panicking, I must stress that the title of today's offering is...

Day Seven: True Freedom and a Saint’s Finger.

This rocky finger, poking out into the Channel Is there such a thing as true freedom? If there is, I think I'm close to experiencing it at this moment in my life. Yes, I still have restrictions on things I...

Day Six: Outside?

As I wander around this quiet corner of my favourite country Today was a day of calm reflection, where nothing really happened and everything happened. It finally hit home that I was here in a place that is...

Day Five: Rest and the Guillotine.

There was a new addition to the kitchen, a contraption which resembled a guillotine Following the best night's sleep in a long while, I headed down to the kitchen and took a seat at the giant table. This I...

Day Four: Black and White, and Grey

It wasn't long before the familiar black and white flag, I left Caen at around nine on a grey foggy Saturday morning, feeling much more confident behind the wheel. The roads were quiet and within minutes, I...

Day Three: Driving and Language.

This manoeuvre saw me enter the car park of Castorama, (the French equivalent to B&Q), instead of the A13 to Paris. There are many things which separate us from our cross channel cousins and an equal...

Day Two: You Are What You Eat.

I negotiated the mini spaghetti junction that was Didcot services and picked up a McDonald's wrap and side salad. Today is as much about food as it is about travel, to quote the successful radio series, now a...

Day One: Rustic.

it was a bit rustic, to say the least. I woke up this morning following a troubled night. After the clinical surroundings of the Premier Inn, my home last night was totally different. In an annexe to an old...

The Motorcycle and the Wedding: Ice Cold in Alex.

Worth waiting for... David's head was toasting nicely in the desert sun. Why this film? He though, as they drove north. A beautiful country, a beautiful woman. What more could he ask for? On the face of it,...

2024

The first week, in Paris...was great. So, what do we all think of 2024 so far? “Rubbish!” To quote the late, great Eric Morecambe. The first week, in Paris and Pontoise was great, even though I was...

The Motorcycle and the Wedding: Part Two.

They took a table in the shade. The restaurant was deserted at this time of day David pulled off the road at a sign for services. He parked in the McDonald's car park and sat still for a few seconds. She...

The Motorcycle and the Wedding:

However, I can imagine riding in a warm country would be great. David pulled up outside the familiar apartment block on the outskirts of Ma'adi. It was identical to its Streetview image - why wouldn't it be?...

Moving On:

This is a message to all of my readers and friends. There will be no more writing for the foreseeable future. The reason being, that I am moving on. The place I have called home for forty years, has been...

In the Footsteps of Nick and Jena: The Fan.

I returned to the computer... “Interesting, how did you know that?” I responded. My mind was racing. Nobody knew about the sequel, let alone, its title. Needless to say, she was right. “I read it somewhere....

In the Footsteps of Nick and Jena: Part Two. Security.

“Do you have any liquids?” She enquired Having no checked in luggage, I made straight the security clearance, the most stressful thirty yards on the planet. As usual the queue, kept in check by those seatbelt...

In the Footsteps of Nick and Jena: Part One. Gregg’s.

I used the time I'd allowed for any train related delays, to savour the delights of a Gregg's breakfast combo. I took one last, long look around the flat. I had to admit, even to myself, it was the neatest it...

L’Esprit D’Escalier: Part Twenty-Nine. The Dinner

He retrieved the five perfect tarts from the oven Lucien woke bright and early. He closed the front door with an audible click and danced down the stairs. Entering the warm yeasty atmosphere of the bakery, he...

The Anniversary:

The diamond sparkled in the lights of the restaurant. “How long?” He asked At every one of the previous five meetings, she'd been frighteningly punctual. This was no exception. As the second hand of his...

L’Esprit D’Escalier: Part Twenty-three. Patrice.

His busy taste buds were soothed further by the baked blackberry and vanilla of the medium aged red wine. A bottle of merlot had been left on the kitchen table, courtesy of Lucien's hosts. He uncorked it and...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: Part Twenty-Two. The Calls.

He lifted his face to its light, scattered by the atmosphere of the Breton evening, Lucien tapped the green symbol on the screen and let himself out of the kitchen door. The sun was setting behind the church...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: Part Twenty-One. Morlaix.

The starters were served and Lucien’s gastronomic anticipation was realised. Following a short drive, the pair arrived at the Manor House, nestling in a small commune on the outskirts of Morlaix. The...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: Part Twenty, The Plan.

The caterpillar fungus is grown in a remote region of the Himalayas, inside the bodies of host caterpillars. The following days saw Abdulaye make frequent visits to Lucien’s apartment bearing packages of...

Brenda’s Story: (Hypnagogia Ch.3)

As I walked past the makeshift greengrocers perched in front of one of the empty units, she appeared around the mall’s only corner. My friend Brenda asked if I'd ever written a story about her. I recalled...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: Part nineteen.

Mushrooms! Lucien’s brain kicked its way through his somnolent state at the mention of the word. Lucien logged out and closed the laptop. He was enveloped by a huge yawn which subsided into a smile of self...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: Part Eighteen, Valéry.

This led to a discovery of an unfinished manuscript by an unknown writer The door clicked shut. Silence descended on the remaining trio and with it, a sense of thorniness. The false affection dissolved like...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: Part Seventeen.

The ride home was a pleasant one. The evening progressed and Lucien was either ignored totally, otherwise the butt of the others' acerbic humour. Either way, it didn't bother him, he was in another world. The...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: Part Sixteen. Gaston.

All this changed, nevertheless, when Gaston, at two years younger than his peers, attended the Sorbonne to study Fine Art. Gaston Trebuchet wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth. There was a full...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: Part Fifteen.

Can you wash and chop these mushrooms? Make sure they're totally dry before you chop them. Lucien removed his overcoat and attempted to hang it next to the opulent collection suspended in the hallway. “No...

L’ Esprit D’ Esacalier: Part Fourteen.

https://scatterbrianblogs.com/l-esprit-d-esacalier-so-far/ Previously… “I’m sorry, I seem to be locked out,” Lucien said to his fellow passenger, whom he immediately recognised… “Come on, I’m in a hurry,” the...

The Little Book of Oblivion: Final Part.

Like a burst dam, the confined adoration poured from me in the direction of my exquisite friend. I sipped the hot brew, savouring the refreshing metallic effect of tannin mixed with the malty sweetness of the...

The Little Book of Oblivion:Part Two.

After two minutes, I poured a cup of the tawny brew I stared at the crumpled sheet, with its brown tea stains and the odd swollen leaf of Assam stuck to it. It resembled an old treasure map a pirate would...

The Little Book of Oblivion: Part One

The image cleared into that of an inconspicuous book with pink pages, each bearing the same message. I entered our favourite cafe and picked her out immediately. Even from behind, she was as precious as a Van...

L’ Esprit D’Escalier: (The Original Beginning+).

He compared it to a dead bird he’d found under a hedge as a boy. The fine strands suspending Lucien’s rationality were stretched to breaking point by the remaining four patients. Their conditions ranged from...

L’Esprit D’Escalier: Part Twelve. Raimund

After a further age of silence, Raimund decided to remove the hatch. Pierre Cournoir lifted his young son up towards the opening. “Quickly Raimund we don't have much time, pull yourself up. When you're...

L’ Esprit D’ Escalier: Part Eleven.

“Of course. No problem,”Abs replied, lifting the heavy metal chair with one arm. “Abs, come in. What can I do for you? Is it Maryam?” Lucien asked as the giant squeezed his frame through the opening. The...

L’Esprit d’Escalier: Part Ten, Abdulaye

He was a member of the famous Senegalese Tirailleurs from Dakar. Abdulaye Haidara is a French citizen. It says so on his passport and identity card, he'll tell anyone who's interested and some who aren't. He...

L’ Esprit D’ Esacalier: So Far.

“The sensitive man such as myself, entirely absorbed by things that are being objected to him, loses his mind and recovers it only at the bottom of the stairs”. A middle-aged GP lives and works in the poorest...

L’Esprit d’Escalier: Part Nine.

He glanced down at the Hanowa wrist watch his mother had bought him as a newly qualified graduate of medicine. God knows, Lucien had experienced some bad days in the last forty years. Days when he wished that...

L’Esprit d’Escalier: Part Eight. Anna.

The familiar appearance, of days written on the rear of the empty packaging, stunned the woman. Jean Louis de Marisy married his childhood sweetheart Anna Beauchamp, in the year of the new millennium. Amongst...

L’Esprit d’Escalier: Part Seven

Lucien placed them, palms down on the worn leather top of the desk, and took several deep breaths. Lucien straightened and tightened the brown woollen tie and fastened the yellow checked waistcoat over his...

L’Esprit d’Escalier: Part Six, Caaisho

their modest house was clean and tidy Caaisho Warsame lived in the outskirts of Bamako, the capital city of Mali, with her husband Cheik and four daughters. The children's ages varied from three to ten....

L’ Esprit d’ Esacallier: Part Five.

She pointed to the shabby flat-pack cupboard in the corner The crowd dispersed, returning to their respective apartments. Lucien turned to the woman who remained in the room. “I must apologise for Raymond's...

L’ Esprit d’ Esacallier: Part Four.

so he prepared a syringe of adrenaline and injected the substance into his massive chest. “Go down and be with him, Caaisho. I will follow directly. I need to get my bag,” Lucien reassured the distraught...

L’Esprit d’ Esacallier: Three.

He plopped in two dice of brown sugar and stirred. Lucien half filled a wide ceramic bowl with thick, creamy milk. He placed it in the microwave oven and set the timer at two minutes. He poured the previously...

L’ Esprit D’ Escalier: Two.

A print of the second of five canvases commissioned by the Emperor; it depicted Napoleon crossing the Alps at the St Bernard Pass. Lucien laid the bread on the cutting board and filled the kettle. He rubbed...

L’Esprit d’escallier: Part One.

Bread came before anything else Château Rouge, an area in the centre of the eighteenth arrondissement of Paris, is also known as “Little Africa”. Lying in the North East of the egg-shaped city, enclosed by...

Third Eye:

I was going to base today's story on my usual walk down to Whitley Bay seafront. However an encounter on the way got me thinking and it turned into this. We'll save that one for tomorrow. Question: What is...

My New Love:

She’s like that. Full of good stuff. Like a hamper on Christmas day. Let me introduce you to my new love. It’s less than a week, but we’re inseparable. Don't get me wrong, this is not a flash in the pan, a...

Spirits: Final.

I have this package for one of your PhD students. Jim entered the reception of the faculty office at The Department of Psychology, University of Newcastle; straight into the clutches of the first gatekeeper....

Spirits: Five.

...even though you don't support Port Vale FC. The young woman continued, Jim  totally in her spell. “ First, let me explain their origin. As I said, they are not the ghosts of people, but something more...

Spirits: Four.

“Contrary to popular belief, a list of things to do before one leaves this existence, is not a creation of the West.” “You’re Mexican!” Jim started. The words were the most pointless he’d ever uttered. Talk...

Spirits: Three

Her accent was Iberian but he wasn't sure which country. The young woman put out her hand in greeting. Jim looked down at the small delicate offering, studying the contrast between the smooth bronzed back and...

Spirits: Two.

It was promoting this year's pantomime at one of the city's venues. Jim unhitched the straps from his shoulders and put the backpack on his lap. He placed both hands on top of it and stared out of the window...

Spirits:

The other self dragged him the half mile walk to the metro station. The wet leaves squelched under his feet. This was the other side of autumn. The drab, damp filthy side, where the crisp, rich colours had...

Depressed:

I would like to say that, before you think that this is some morbid example of melancholic introspection, think again. This is an actual celebration of the discovery that I am, in fact, a member of the...

The Grey Hair:

“I read somewhere that it's the lack of melanin, a pigment in the hair." “I have another grey hair,” she said, the emotion thick in her sleepy voice. “That's good,” I replied nonchalantly, staring at the...

Persian Delight: Final Part.

I, like Stevenson, would have no peace From the moment my pen touched the paper, I was no longer in control. When I refer to myself in the first person, I mean the living, waking self. According to Robert...

Persian Delight: Part Three.

I have good news, Azizam. The scribe has been located and he is perfect. His work is of the right quality and I am sure he can make a good account of your journey so far. Nevertheless, he is close to you;...

Persian Delight: Part Two.

He drained the cup and held it up to the patron. The vessel was immediately recharged and placed in front of him. The old man gestured to the large silver tray of food, and I immediately obeyed. I spooned...

Persian Delight:

. The resulting rich black mixture was served with saffron rice and freshly baked flatbread, accompanied by the uniquely  flavoured tea of the region; black with plenty of sugar. Let me tell you how I came to...

The Beach: Part Three

'Nia found what she was looking for. The plain, carved headstone was identical to the hundreds of others, except for the name. Alessandro Marco Botti The young woman kissed the palm of her hand and placed it...

The Beach: Part 2.

the tall, assertive letters stood out from the smooth face of the stone. "Stop the car Baba. Here, now please?" 'Nia called from the back seat. The other three occupants turned to stare at the young woman...

The Beach:

There's a large cemetery for both British and German soldiers. "I'm going to the beach today," 'Nia said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "That's nice." I tried not to let the tide of her enthusiasm engulf...

Everybody Leaves Me:

She was convinced that she would always end up alone hence the title of this piece a statement drawn from her during an intense discussion who is she? Let me introduce our subject a 28-year old highly...

The Leaflet:

You must evacuate your homes immediately and head to the Southern Gaza valley. Urgent statement! To the residents of Gaza City. Terrorist organisations have begun a war on the state of Israel and Gaza city...

The Train: Epilogue.

In his distracted state, he’d failed to notice the tiny black figure standing by the plot. The big man let himself into the tiny council house, ducking his six-foot four fame to enter. He dropped the massive...

The Train: Final Part.

"Your favourite. Cheese scones" the woman said clearly Ron had an hour to kill in addition to his journey time. He approached the cricket ground and squeezed through a hole in the fence. Reaching down the key...

The Train: Part Five.

Brett sat quietly, seemingly contemplating his last comment. Suddenly, he snapped out of his brief trance. "So, love number two, Angela. We were together for two years. I must say they were the best years of...

The Train: Part Four.

"Oh yes. They have earthquakes there!" "So, young Ron. Let me ask you a question," Brett finally uttered, after a period of silence. He slapped his hands on his crossed legs. "Sure, go ahead," the boy replied...

The Train: Part 3

"Congratulations mate, you're now the proud owner of a Tag Heuer Aquaracer." The boy stopped in his tracks, taking two steps to his right, into the hawthorn that bordered the line. The figure didn’t move, but...

The Train: Part Two.

There are KitKats in the fridge. One only, understand?" She had past caring, even for her own son. The alarm sounded on the tiny travel clock and, as he leaned over to stop it, the fluorescent green pointers...

The Train:

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com The boy pressed the on button of the remote and the small TV on the wall of his bedroom flashed into life. From the menu, he selected the BBC News Channel. The image on the...

On your Marx:

She appeared in the doorway of the café, the urge to hug her was irresistible. He stood up and pulled out a chair. "You're late,  everything alright?" He leaned over and kissed her flushed cheek. "I want...

The Priory: Lost in Translation .

"Can we talk about the priority now?" "Is this a castle?" "No, it's a Priory." "It looks like a castle." "Well, it's not." "Why does it look like one then? There, look, that bit." "It was probably added...

October 2nd.

Looking back on the early days, my spring; and middle age Here we are on October 2nd. A random day in the year. Nothing special, not 1st, not 31st. I suppose somewhere it's someone's birthday or another...

The Stone: Final Part.

He took down the tin from the single shelf and ran his finger over the gold butterfly on the faded label. He felt a warmth emanating from the stone. Even though it was hard and smooth, it was like touching...

The Stone: Part Four.

“I’m afraid it’s not Breaking Bad but I’m sure you’ll enjoy Anne with an E. He arrived home and put the kettle on, taking his favourite, fig rolls, from the cupboard. He placed the stone on the bench and...

The Stone: Part Three.

It was dark grey and shining from the water but began to lighten in the warm evening breeze. As she turned to face him, a look of recognition flashed across her features. She uttered the single word that...

The Stone: Part Two.

pouring the Fevertree tonic water into her goldfish bowl of a glass. At that moment, There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned around… She wasn’t one of the half-dozen, thankfully as he allowed her to...

The Stone: Part One.

The tide was out and it was on top, not that it could tell. It's so cramped here, it thought, because it could think. Sometimes it was on the surface, but mostly it was buried beneath hundreds or even...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Eight.

Tony hated shopping, which was a paradox, as he only bought the essentials when he frequented a supermarket with his strict shopping list. No diversions. This meant that he visited virtually every day which...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Nine.

Tony looked out of the bay window and checked his watch again. Three fifty-eight, two minutes since the last time he looked. Seconds later, Alan’s red Porsche Cayman cruised into the street and pulled up at...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Ten.

The room was unfamiliar. Dark, cold and forbidding. A tall church-like window provided scant illumination to his first waking seconds. What was familiar, a brace of pain, warm, glaring and inviting; welcomed...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Nine.

The two men booked into the old George and Abbotsford Hotel and reconvened in the bar. Tony looked out of the bay window and checked his watch again. Three fifty-eight, two minutes since the last time he...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Eight.

Meanwhile, the lady in the Honda did a wheelspin into the side of a Sainsbury’s delivery van Tony hated shopping, which was a paradox, as he only bought the essentials when he frequented a supermarket with...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Seven.

The Emir’s representative is coming on Thursday “Why do you constantly get it wrong?” Andreas Lindgaard stood over the young woman cowering below him. He was dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and mauve...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Six.

"I want you to come here, Tony. I wanted you both to come. My treat,” Tony gripped the wreckage and pulled it to his chest. Blood smeared on his shirt and he felt the sharp stab of pain. There was a battle...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Five.

A red globule of blood formed underneath his thumb and trickled down the broken glass of the screen. Tony closed his eyes tight. The vision of the two women on his phone merged together. Tighter. They...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Four.

Alan drained his glass and slapped a giant hand on the table which creaked under the impact. "Let's call it a day fella, this is potent stuff and your mind is fragile enough without pickling it," he declared,...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Three.

“I’ve been let down by her family, not the system. How can the service deal with something it knows nothing about? Do you know her sister is one of your lot? How can someone who lives with a person most of...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Two.

The young woman, wearing her coat, entered the office with a brown paper carrier. Immediately, the room was filled with the aroma of bacon and eggs. Tony’s mouth began to water and his stomach gurgled. Sharon...

Sesame Seed: Chapter One.

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone. Someone so close, so young. She was too young to die. How can you ever know what it’s like?” Tony Patterson half-pleaded, half-argued with the man sitting...

Sesamee Seed: Prologue.

“My basil is dying, I don’t know why,” She said softly, holding a small plastic pot containing the sorry-looking herb. She’d used the ‘a’ as in ache when referring to the plant. Cradling it like an ailing...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Ten.

The room was unfamiliar. Dark, cold and forbidding. A tall church-like window provided scant illumination to his first waking seconds. What was familiar, a brace of pain, warm, glaring and inviting; welcomed...

Café Murakami:

Walking is my IKIGAI just like you are. My purpose in life "Good morning." Hello! Good morning! "Excited?" No, terrified. "Why?" Because I'm always like this until I've checked in. "I see." How's Jeddah?...

Skin Deep:

However, her skin is like Rizla paper and beneath it is two-week old road-kill. They say beauty is skin deep. I have a friend who is indeed the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. However, her skin is like...

Almost There:

I tucked into my falafel, using the hot, crispy balls to scoop up a dollop of hummus. Whenever I'm in London, I always make a bee-line for Edgware Road, especially at breakfast time. The long, straight,...

My Island: Conclusion.

Those of you expecting the conclusion to this sad, harrowing story will be either disappointed or relieved. There isn't one. It has been a difficult time for me, both researching and writing this story, and...

My Island: Part Four.

My name is Abdullah and I'm from Freetown in Sierra Leone. I now live and work in Hackney, which is in London. I love my job. People are so kind. Both the people I work with and my customers. I call them that...

My Island: Part Three.

We were sitting in the back of the fixer's Hi Lux when they appeared behind us The route is called The Temple Run, after a popular computer game played by local youths. In it, one has to negotiate a journey...

My Island: Part Two.

Once, when I still owned the family home in Freetown, my friend told me a story. What is it like, living on your island? I hear you ask, and I will tell you. As I said, it is unpleasant but not the most...

My Island: Part One.

My name is Fallubah and I live on an island. Not one surrounded by sea, nor in the middle of a lake. No, my island is surrounded by traffic. Cars, buses, taxis and lorries circle us day and night like a siege...

The Artist: Full Story.

She could have been half way home. The young woman decided to take the bus. Usually, she would walk the thirty minute journey, but the last of three ten hour shifts had left her exhausted. The nearest Careem...

My Little Diamond:

There is no story today. I am writing one at the moment, inspired by the subject about whom I'll tell you today. I will publish it tomorrow. Once I wrote a tale about Bandile, a South African diamond miner....

The Accident: Final Part. Happy Bastille Day!

The last card, came today is from a bloke called Robespierre. One of your French mates? It's got a Paris postmark. It says Happy Bastille Day As the fog cleared, and I took in my surroundings, I became aware...

The Accident: Part Six. Mme. Guillotine.

"Good news, young fella, you're alive. A bit of a mess but you'll pull through, thanks to the wonders of medical science." He raised his eyes at the last comment. "So now we can get on with the process. May I...

The Accident: Part Five. Choices.

When You were away, I did identify one event... While He, She, It was away, I put flesh on the bones of my plan. As I saw it, if I survived, there was only one thing I would change and it was in my recent...

The Artist: One of Two

She couldn't believe her eyes. It was the boy on the bus The young woman decided to take the bus. Usually, she would walk the thirty minute journey, but the last of three ten hour shifts had left her...

The Accident: Part Four. Borodino.

That little irk Bonaparte throwing his weight around again. "Like the unfortunate dog-mimic, your life is in the balance. You suffered terrible injuries in the collision and they're doing their best to keep...

The Accident: Part Three. The Wizard of Oz.

How come you're more like the Wizard of Oz? Where are your levers and pulleys? Through the open door, entered a small old man. I say old, as his overall appearance was such. He had a shock of white hair...

The Accident: Part Two. Corsa-Boy.

This particular example was a white Vauxhall Corsa, driven by one of the boy-racers of the town. I set off along Norham Road, the long dog-leg that leads from the smart suburb of Monkseaton to Whitley Bay...

The Accident:Part One. The Green Bridge.

A point where you leave the dodgy end of town and cross the Metro into Whitley Bay proper. I left my flat at the usual time, eleven-fifty, being lucky enough to live ten minutes walk from my two favourite...

The Painting: Final Part.

Lachlan stared into those beautiful onyx jewels adorned with sweeping black lashes below the pair of ebony eyebrows “I am sorry but I must go. Thank you for the coffee and tour of your new enterprise, ” he...

The Painting: Part Two.

All that had been painted of the girl was the side of her face, a hint of her jet-black hair, and a tiny taste of ruby red lip. Lachlan gathered his composure with a shake of the head and re-took the man’s...

The Painting: A Short Story.

He seemed to recall that the shop had an unsavoury past, something to do with the death of not one but two owners in a short space of time. Note: Written in March 2020, at the height of COVID 19, when I was...

The Broken Doll: Chapter Ten.

as the bones and snake skin crumbled into the surrounding sand. Zahhak slithered away from the pile of clean bones he had excreted, entered a cave nearby and curled up in the corner. His skin proceeded to...

The Broken Doll: Chapter Nine.

Suddenly there was a rustle amongst the cushions. The sun rose over the silent town of Kashmar, its golden glow slowly spreading through the lanes and alleyways. When it struck the giant cypress, its rays...

The Broken Doll: Chapters Seven and Eight.

Looking ahead, she noticed a tiny yellow glow in the distance. Chapter Seven Shahid arrived at the Denjan home and let himself in. He closed the door to the din of the crowd and leaned back on it, hands...

The Broken Doll: Chapters Five and Six.

He took the curved blade from its bejewelled scabbard and handed it to the girl. Chapter Five The tiny classroom on the third floor of the Denjan home had two occupants. The old sage was hunched over his desk...

The Broken Doll: Chapters Three and Four.

Soraya’s cheek was pushed against the rough bark of the vast tree. Chapter Three Shahid stood on the balcony of the Denjan home, where he could see events unfold below, as well as observe the arrival of the...

The Broken Doll: Chapter Two.

The old sage leafed through the giant book and then stopped abruptly. That evening, Hussein sat at the large work table in the library of the Denjan home. Head in hands. The room was lit by a solitary oil...

The Broken Doll: Prologue and Chapter One.

“What of it Eeam? The Governor is a Muslim. The tree is of no interest to his kind.” Prologue Everything I am about to tell you is the truth Soraya-Jan. I can be sure of this as I witnessed every detail with...

The Toy Shop: Part Five.

...the other one was in the collection of King Hussein of Jordan... It took Alan several hours to sort through the remaining parcels as some of the items required assembly. For example, the 1960s replica of...

The Toyshop: Part Four.

The shopkeeper scratched his head at the arrangement of parcels in front of him. Alan got up to answer the door before it was taken off its hinges. Damn kids, he thought and the pain returned to his head...

The Apple and the Worm: (or the little green monster)

The same day, along comes a young housewife with one thing on her mind, apple crumble. There once was an apple. A big, shiny green one, hanging by its stalk from the tree. The gentle hands of the picker...

The Priory.

"Is this a castle?" Lina asked. "No," Brian replied. "It Looks like a Castle." "Well, it's not." "Why does it look like one then?" "That bit was probably added later." "What?" "The castle bit." "You just said...

The White Dress

The dress hung down half way between her knees and ankles. I dreamt I was sleeping under the stars in the southern hemisphere. I knew that because I could see the southern cross in the sky. I could hear the...

The City of the Dead:

'Not that anybody knows this fact, other than you my friend' Today I revisited Cimetière du Père-Lachaise. Guess who I bumped into showing a Chinese tourist around his home! I told him about this story and he...

The Balloon

and grabbed the silver ribbon of the heart... The day had not gone well for him. After an hour and a half of trying to log into the Wi-Fi and to top that his entry card still didn't work. How on earth was...

Pick Your Own

two bowls piled high with gleaming orange-red chunks of the fruit dotted with black seeds. The mid-day sun was already relentless, drying up any morning moisture in the previously arid city. The Englishman...

Hurting:

Written thee years ago, it still does💔 I thought I knew what pain was, both mental and physical. "I'm an expert, it was my major" I say to anyone who'll listen. From my broken ankle while playing soccer, that...

Hypnagogia: Chapters 1-3

Fires raged everywhere as every piece of flammable material succumbed to the inferno. Chapter 1. The Siege of Carthage There is a brief transitional state spanning wakefulness and sleep when one has a...

Goldfish in a Bag and the Old Farm

“Goldfish please sir.” He handed me a triangular shaped plastic bag. I lived on a council estate in Fawdon with me Mam me Dad me two brothers and me Auntie Joan who came to live with us when me Nana died. We...

The Iris and the Cypress

In memory of our own beautiful tree and the speculation surrounding its demise, I thought I would dig out a story I wrote over two years ago for a special person. "Is it true?" She asked yesterday. Yes...

A Conversation Between Heart and Head

Head: Morning Heart: Really? I hope your proud of yourself! Head: Pardon? Heart: Exactly. What on earth were you thinking? "Please leave me alone. This was a mistake. I don't want to hear from you again"....

The Quiet Wedding

This story came to me several months ago following a conversation with a lovely couple with whom I was sharing a table in my local micro pub The Dog and Rabbit. I later became good friends and was sad to lose...

Diamond Part 1

Although this piece is about Bandile the diamond miner, the underlying subject is forbidden love. I hope you enjoy it. Bandile is twenty-nine. He works at the Premier Diamond Mine 25 kilometres east of...

Diamond Part 2

The compound's triple fence is four metres high and ten metres apart. That’s two gaps totalling twenty metres. The distance to the walkway is forty metres and to the field outside of the compound, fifty. One...

Lost:

The first time on Mont Blanc—Europe’s highest mountain— Who would have thought that, in my sixty-five years of existence, I would ever get lost? Me, the virtual inventor of the map, to whom the Ordnance...

Father’s Day, Coal Dust

"I don't like the other Dad" my brother would whinge as we got on one of three busses My little brother used to think we had two Dads. There was our Dad, the fella that sat at the kitchen table reading the...

Unrequited: The jigsaw

Not for want of trying, this piece will not fit I wrote this piece almost four years ago after a similar experience of being in 'The Suitor's' position. Now, some forty eight months later, my theory has been...

Spotify Saved my Life, (or a brief love lost)

Spotify Saved my Life, (or a brief love lost)

“If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die." -Duke Orsino of Illyria -Twelfth Night Act 1 Scene 1 Orsino, a man after my own heart, a...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Eight.

Tony hated shopping, which was a paradox, as he only bought the essentials when he frequented a supermarket with his strict shopping list. No diversions. This meant that he visited virtually every day which...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Eight.

Tony hated shopping, which was a paradox, as he only bought the essentials when he frequented a supermarket with his strict shopping list. No diversions. This meant that he visited virtually every day which...

Sesame Seed: Chapter Eight.

Tony hated shopping, which was a paradox, as he only bought the essentials when he frequented a supermarket with his strict shopping list. No diversions. This meant that he visited virtually every day which...