High Street

from a pleasant sleep. Pleasant dreams. Instantly forgetting any connotation; basking only in serenity. The window was open ajar, allowing a mild breeze to freshen the room. I stretched, content, confused, unsure of where I was. The faux feeling of equanimity on the surface began to crack like a crème brûlée. Incandescent molten horror oozedContinue reading “High Street”

Cockshott Point

The brew hut was a chamber pot of toxicity. The manager, a fervent supporter of schadenfreude, constantly scoured the workplace for any signs of joy that he could rip out like a rose amongst thorns. What events must have unfolded in his life for him to have ended up so bitter, so full of hate?Continue reading “Cockshott Point”