Short Stories

Calan Gaeaf

Despite how fiercely the sun shone in the sky, the chill air cut at Morven and she pulled her coat closer against the chill. They definitely stood on the cusp of winter. That realisation brought with it another chill. Not from the weather, but from the memory of what would happen again that night. She had done well to keep it out of her mind all day, not least given how the images of it had intruded upon her dreams over the past week. Roaring flames, and rocks being fed to the fire, followed by the sight of her name fading away. Twice she had managed to awake before she caught sight of the rider, but even then the sow's grunting had followed her into the waking world.

Short Stories


"I'm just off the shops." She shouts. "Want anything?" "Wha?" The sound is a grunt, a waking snore dragged out of him by the surprise of being distracted from the telly, masquerading as words. "No, I'm fine." She rolls her eyes. "Okay. Back soon." She gets no answer so, after one last look in the… Continue reading Headscarf

Writing about writing

New projects

Self-publishing From the Hill of Megiddo has been a learning experience in a lot of ways. If you haven't had a chance to read it yet, then please do feel free to buy a copy from any of these stores. However, here I want to talk about what comes next. Even before I published this… Continue reading New projects