Tristan Stone
Bio
Tristan read Theology at Cambridge university before training to be a teacher. He has published plays, poetry and prose (non-fiction and fiction) and is working on the fourth volume of his YA "Time's Fickle Glass" series.
Stories (19/0)
Newcomb's Package
There was nothing especially suspicious, or insidious, about the package itself. In fact, the first time Dr Hannover saw it – propped up against a bench in St. James’s Park, she assumed it had been left by mistake, or indolence (the nearest recycling bin was a fifteen second walk along the path). Perhaps, living so long in London, she had become inured to the, ‘See it, say it, sorted’ tricolon – which had contributed to fractured communities and increase in xenophobia (as argued in her paper, published in Mind last month). It was only when she bent down to inspect it that she recoiled: Her name had been written in a thick, black, felt tip pen, over the brown paper. A piece of string was wrapped around it, sealed with yellow wax, which bore the impression of a stamp, embossed with a letter N.
By Tristan Stone3 years ago in Fiction
The World Must Be Peopled
Overhead – a falcon; kestrel? No, a buzzard. Two: One each. In her delirium (she was still drunk with that arid fatigue which the permanently dehydrated subsist in) she pitched her foot against a rock and gave a yelp of pain. The buzzards took no notice of the blood which oozed like water from a stone struck in anger.
By Tristan Stone3 years ago in Fiction
If Music Be The Food Of Love...
Usually, by the time one approaches the second glass of Merlot, one has a sense of how well things are going – by which is meant how likely it is that the current interview will lead to subsequent intercourse (verbal) and – after the appropriate Bacchanalian delights – further debauchery.
By Tristan Stone3 years ago in Filthy