I wanted to write something about guilt that takes queues from great actions scenes like that in John Wick, but I don’t think it turned...

The blastwave. The forest sang under the breaking dawn as morning dew ripped from the emerald blades of grass that swayed slightly in the...

Lonely road Pitch black, the night, swirling around me as I walked. Her smiling face, laughing as she skipped and giggled, her auburn...

Colour “Have you ever tried to describe colour to a blind man? No? I have. It’s difficult, that is, it’s difficult because colours are...

Paradise, and the cold dark She clumsily rose to her feet, the scent of roses surrounding her, enticing her with sweetness. This garden...