1640. After a long retirement in the south of France, former pirate Peter Easton has come home to London. Weary and bedridden, he finds himself plagued by heightened sensitivities. He is acutely aware of the suffering of all living things and longs to make amends for a lifetime of destruction. As...
Ismay’s face is unmistakable. Dark eyes glisten like those of a man freshly wounded; his brow furrows; his mouth hides behind a grey moustache. Miranda peers through the leafy opening, feeling protected for the moment, the way an audience member feels shielded by the relative darkness of the stal...
It seems cold here away from the open daylight, even though they are only a few feet inside the cave’s rim. A constant drip, drip, comes from the darkness behind them. Gasps and moans echo from deep within the hollow mountain too. “We should move farther away,” says George. The Happy Adventure an...
I remembered it too once the fog of dreams began to lift. I had screamed when I reached the enemy trenches. All the terror and fury of suicide was in that desperate release. And, immediately after, I was thrown by an irresistible force. There was a sharp pain in my head, a wrench in my ankles, an...
Speed and emptiness quicken his thoughts, make them electric and brilliant. Like jagged teeth of Himalayan peaks, the twin destinies of glory or death race with him. Sled-runners hiss and ice stars fleck his cheeks. The grey tails of the dogs sway like disconnected rudders. The animals, in V form...
He strikes another, shielding it this time from the wind, then takes a draw and exhales a white funnel into the street’s grey canyon. A middle-aged couple stop on the curb opposite; with their flapping map and umbrella they look like lost crows. Something about the woman – the dark fur of her col...
Ever since I awoke and returned to my habitual corner, portents have echoed in the click of my needles, in the breeze-like rustling of my wool. Within the bulging folds of new cloth which grew upon my lap, I saw the rise and dip of unknown mountain ranges. Sundays are always quiet, but this silen...
Burning lava spewed into the valley, hissing ridley-ridley-ridley as it slid down the mountainside. Men, women, and children scattered, screaming “help-us-thom-as-rid-ley!” their togas flying, their eyes in panic. Even the chickens cackled ridley-ridley-ridley, their flightless wings battering th...