Riding the Train
Riding the hover train this time of night always made me sleepy.
I gave some old stories a little love and polish. Find them here. They are my personal favourites.
Riding the hover train this time of night always made me sleepy.
Dwaithelord — an honorific for the tribal leader of a coven of dwarven wraith soul stealers.
Jake hobbled in to the kitchen and half-sat on his haunches.
Captain Nestor breathed a sigh of relief as his yacht left the hanger bay of the Vindictus.
Reflected in the steel above, I watch the red line widen as he traces the scalpel from my navel to between my breasts.
Peter wanted a smoke.
a haiku poem
‘How the Hell did he get up there?
I waited impatiently for my computer to shut down.
It’s never been easy working in the same place where Mom died.
Officially, the Marcy Bell was a salvage rig, licensed for Canadian and international waters but not American.
Rod in hand, I went to the lake