The Small One

 A small cough revealed her hiding behind a chair. I pretended not to see her, even looked away, but the flash of her eyes pierced the room’s midnight. Why she was here, who knew, perhaps fate or fragility? But when I opened the window that a stiff breeze had slammed closed behind her, she simply flew away. I have never told this tale to anyone, not family, friend or foe. People would’ve thought me mad to speak of the little people, those we call faerie. Reputations are tarnished by such things and I was never a brave man. So … Continue reading The Small One

The Owl-Girl

 “I’m an owl,” she said. The wide-eyed stare I gave her looked far more owl-like than she did. “You don’t believe me?” “You have no feathers,” I replied. “My feathers are on the inside.” “Inside?” “Yes. I was born with my wings inside, my feathers, beak and talons, too.” She cocked her head to one side as if to prove it. “Do you believe me now?” “Honestly, I don’t know what to believe, but I doubt very much you’re an owl even if you think you are.” “I could eat a mouse,” she suggested. “No! I mean, please, no.” … Continue reading The Owl-Girl

Dripping Away

 A dripping faucet marks the seconds in accumulating mercury pools, slatted silver flashing through Venetian blinds to stripe those huddling globules in divisions of time; they won't be divided, won't be categorised for convenience. Every dashing, steel behemoth shakes this pool, every footfall of every thing sends shivers, judders of reality from this grouped liquidity. One might call them family how they strive to be, or, perhaps, just droplets of water caught in a sink. Continue reading Dripping Away