Intercession of the Holy Virgin and Saint Ite
Ite entered the cool interior of the church, a reverent stillness guiding every step. She dipped her hand in the holy water and crossed herself, invoking the power of the Virgin Mary’s intercession and blessing.
The package has been sitting in the hallway all morning staring at me blandly, as only brown paper can. I wasn’t expecting anything in the post – no online purchases, no celebrations to mark, no legal matters to attend to.
Love, cake, and whisky
The evidence was there, sprawled out on the kitchen table like a dieter’s crime scene. Dark crumbles of chocolate cake, strewn across a white tablecloth, meeting the seeping stains of red wine from the now empty bottle, on its side trickling its last drops onto the floor.
King of the barn
This is my space. Its dark but I am perfectly adjusted to this domain – I see everything. Padding softly between the ordered shelves, I know where every shiny chisel and crumpled tarpaulin sits. I know the curve of the old axe blades, the spotlights that peek out from a canvass that covers the old car.
Things that look like things
I have always loved simple rhyming stories for small children, especially when they are a little bit goofy and imaginative.
Escape from the Blandlands
Curiosity. The strangest feeling – a mixture of a thirst for knowledge, fear of the unknown and impatience to understand.
A Memory of Rain
That memory: the staccato drum on the old, corrugated iron roof of the shed, the rivulets forming in dust so dry, it was like face powder, and then, her mouth open as splashes of earthy rain hit her tongue, cold, startling, wonderful. That memory was so cherished – she inhaled these imaginings deep into her heart.
The Sting of Summer
All bold and golden, you push away the morning chill, and roll out green carpets. Adorning trees with weighty blossom, so bees can have their fill.