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Tales from a Train Window: Three
There is something other worldy about the things you see from a train window. Blurred with movement, splintered by sunlight or refracted in raindrops, they are fleeting tableaus and uncertain images which you can never be quite sure you’ve actually seen. Travelling in the early mornings adds to this. The world is still hungover from…
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Tales from a Train Window: Two
There is something other worldy about the things you see from a train window. Blurred with movement, splintered by sunlight or refracted in raindrops, they are fleeting tableaus and uncertain images which you can never be quite sure you’ve actually seen. Travelling in the early mornings adds to this. The world is still hungover from…
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Tales from a Train Window: One
There is something other worldy about the things you see from a train window. Blurred with movement, splintered by sunlight or refracted in raindrops, they are fleeting tableaus and uncertain images which you can never be quite sure you’ve actually seen. Travelling in the early mornings adds to this. The world is still hungover from…
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The Invisible
It is night. Dusk has fallen, and the shadows have not so much disappeared as consumed everything entirely. The whole street, the whole town, is one large mass of shadows, heaving together and spewing into the cold air. Justin is a shadow. He is a bulky, shapeless lump in the dark, blanket wrapped around him,…
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Two’s Company
Artwork by Tim Judd.   fb.me/Quillhook Hush now, don’t fidget. I know it’s a long journey. It’s a long way to walk here. I’m tiring too. But it’s going to be worth it. This place is special. Just a couple more miles… There. My feet are throbbing and I know you’re not happy, kicking me hard…
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16 Questions
Artwork by Tim Judd.   fb.me/Quillhook (A smartly appointed office. There is a desk with a computer, assorted pens and notepads, and a Dictaphone style recorder. There is also a framed photograph of a smiling woman against a backdrop of gleaming golden beach. Behind the desk is a tall, middle aged, kindly looking man with a…
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The Vice Capsule
Artwork by Tim Judd.   fb.me/Quillhook The earth under his feet sounded different in the dark. It crunched when it had no reason to, and creaked like floorboards, when all there should have been was moss and darkness. Dennis rolled his eyes, gritted his teeth, tried to laugh at himself. But, as he exited the yellow…
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Snail Trails
This story is free. However, inspired by my wonderful friend Nicholas Gregoriades, who I believe to be one of the most unique and special people on this earth, and who recently celebrated his fortieth birthday by asking his friends to donate to the United Nations High Commission for Refugees, I would be very pleased and…
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Door: A Warning
Artwork by Tim Judd.   fb.me/Quillhook It’s in the attic. Or the garage. The broken down shed at the bottom of the garden. The place you didn’t check when you came to look round. The place you never deemed important. The place you never really go. It lies, against the wall or the roof beams, or…
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