By William Gallagher 19091 Mews Boulevard Los Angeles 09811 USA DEAREST Lisa, It’s a lovely invitation but I’m afraid I have to work. We’re just coming to the year end and the bank has asked me to postpone my holiday. Of course I’d rather come to you and I do know I’ve put off visiting… Continue reading Catalyst
By Nadia Kingsley P.S.Eudonym Sunday 17 April 2016 06.00 BST I GUESS everyone knows about the Learning to Listen project by now. But who, I wondered, knows anything about the person behind the project: Nadia Kingsley? So this intrepid journalist headed out on a mid April morning to meet the woman herself. All looks fairly normal… Continue reading Project Blossoms
By Liz Parkes ดอก· MONDAY April 25th This is a cold place. The rain runs and gurgles into the drains as I gather the washing from the line, hastily pulling shirts, boiler suits, underpants and mother’s aprons into the basket. My hair clings to my face and dribbles icy droplets down my neck. My hands… Continue reading What’s in a Name?
By Laura Yates 3PM: I have arrived at Chapel House. It is exactly as the advert described. A remote, quiet and picturesque former chapel. My mother would have thought this place creepy – evil. The kind of place where the devil lives and bad things happen. She would never have approved of me being here… Continue reading Blood
By Dan Seavers THE ash blew, mixing with the blossom as it was caught in the wind. A shower of grey and red, spilt like blood. Nobody knew whose idea it was to choose the park. It just seemed the obvious choice. In a city built from greed and corruption, it still stood as an… Continue reading They
By Damien McKeating THEY had warned her about him. A bad seed. But sometimes a warning is as good as an invitation. She skipped, fleet footed, through the rolling woodland. She danced through ferns, moved as one with the trees and stepped bare foot across a shallow brook, the water icy cold on her toes.… Continue reading Virgin
By Angela Gallagher IT was a bit of an experiment for me, to be honest – going on holiday as a single. Single. I hadn’t been that for a long time. I was used to fairly exotic long-haul with Quentin: his city broker salary could take it with barely a dent but things were different… Continue reading The Room Mate