Predators Pray

Love is blind, the Romantics say and justice too. Faith is blind, so predators pray in the dark


  She can hear mummy whimper and sob. The beating has stopped. And the shouting, too. For a time it was like a war. She could hear things smash and crash, bottles splinter then the  dull thump of flesh pummeled,  cracking bones. She can't leave the freezer. She can only shiver.

Who’s at the Door?

Another short story from my 2012 published collection, Postcard from a Pigeon and Other Stories. This was written in response to a topic challenge in a writers' forum.   Mummy won’t get out of bed. There's ice inside the kitchen window. The curtains are closed. I soaked some crusts of bread and old biscuits in…Read more Who’s at the Door?