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The latest edition of the filthy old rag hit the streets in the early hours of the morning, and old Charlie picked up a copy with little thought for the blood that was the ink of its pages. He furrowed his brow at the news contained within its pages, for it only told of horror and lost hope.

Posted By nick ward On 01.15.2011 @ 7:54 pm

On a whim, I left the foreshore and walked down the old alleyway. It ran straight down the hill, its cobbles rough and lined with cracks. Importantly it ran away from the waterfront, where she waited.

Posted By nick ward On 01.15.2011 @ 1:06 pm

The path led me down past a series of old sheds and out-houses. The place was so old and run down that it felt a little spooky. I knew that somewhere down here Old Mr Graham had died, and it was the flies that found him first. It led down into a small thicket of trees, into a quiet, shady grove. It felt somehow peaceful here. A place that the rest of the world had forgotten about, and I knew it would become special to me.

Posted By Nick Ward On 10.25.2008 @ 11:07 pm