The Hole

"The stain on the cement stared back at me. I wanted to go home and get a pail of hot water and wash it off. Several ants were grazing on it. I looked around. Everything was the same as it had been a few days earlier. The telephone booth. The newspaper boxes. The Six Points Plaza across the street. The plaza was empty. Business was bad. Several of the stores were abandoned. The stain was the only sign that something terrible had happened."
Detective Sam Kelly is in the last days of a long career. His final assignment is to investigate Joe Mackenzie's complaint that neighbours are dumping garbage down his well. Kelly soon discovers that many locals have vanished over the years. In every case the disappearances lead back to the mysterious hole in Mackenzie's backyard.
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December 2016 Week Five Part 1

December 2016 Week Four Part 1

Elizabeth

The Trailer

I have these awful thoughts. In the middle of the night. When I can’t get to sleep. Like a slide show. The planet. Devastated. Hardly a sign of life except for the odd building on the landscape. And the sky is a deep purple. Silver clouds drift by. And the land is black. Except for the ditches where water runs red. There are leafless trees on the horizon that look like crucifixes. And I’m the last person on the planet. Except for a mysterious dark stranger. We’re the Adam and Eve of the planet. And he’s a serial killer. 

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THE TRAILER

 

December 2016 Week Three Part 3

'brand new pill box hat'...

my pen is leaking

Life at the Rectory

I wanted to believe in something. I prayed. But all I could hear was the echoed clang of a clapper against a bell. The bell ringer was dead. The universe was empty… I was the miserable beggar on the street, my palms slashed red with the cuts from freshly minted coins… I was the bitch, the poor cur whining in the overheated parked car in the middle of the afternoon in the middle of a parking lot in the middle of the suburbs… I waited in the middle earth between paradise and suicide… I studied. I studied with Plato in the coldness of his cave, huddled around the fire as reality played out on the walls. I tried to find the sun but I could never find the entrance to the cave… I argued with Sartre in a room with no doors… I studied. Running along the streets of Copenhagen with Kierkegaard as the Danish brats pelted us with stones and laughter. I wanted to roast the little buggers over an open fire… I wept. Like hills into ditches into an empty sky… I saw a lonely man hanging from a tree and mistook him for Santa Claus. He looked down at me and smiled like a drunk in an alley. ‘Follow me,’ he entreated. ‘Or buy me another glass of wine. Or if you do not have any loose change, cut me down from this tree where I have been abandoned by the wind.’

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LIFE AT THE RECTORY

December 2016 Week Three Part 2

December 2016 Week Three Part 1

THE EXHIBITION

Like a Brueghel painting. Time turns on itself. Events are repeated and altered. Characters both dead and imaginary appear. At the core of the story is an exhibition of paintings. The paintings tell the story of the moments before, after, and surrounding the events in Dealey Plaza, on November 11, 1963. The assassination of John Kennedy. And amongst the crowd that packs the exhibition at the Zig |Zag bar is a serial murderer.
“I think you should have included those other pieces.” Sharmaine sipped her coffee.
“The assassination shots?”
Sharmaine nodded.
Willy shook his head.
“Jack said that they were too gruesome for his bar. He didn’t want his customers retching. The image of Kennedy’s brain’s splattered across Mrs. Kennedy’s face doesn’t run up the food bill. And the other one of Mrs. Kennedy trying to escape by crawling out over the trunk of the limousine. People still have to drive home. The third one, the autopsy of Kennedy was my favourite. I love the image of those doctors looking like Supreme Court judges dipping their fingers into the President’s head like it was a box of donuts.

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THE EXHIBITION

December 2016 Week Two Part 2

December 2016 Week Two Part 1

December 2016 Week One Part 1

November 2016 Week Five Part 2

November 2016 Week Five Part 1

the sower

OPEN 24hrs

The rain was black. Glistening asphalt like an engagement ring. Moon shattered in the puddles of shame, shards in the faces of pools. Motor oil slicks, cheap impressionistic cringes. Two dancers , Everest and Edna McGuire. The gentleman wore white. His lover wore red, glided across the parking lot. Glenn Miller was playing over the intercom that blasted out into the cafeteria after the events in Sandy Hook. Everest looked up to the heaven. Listen to those horns swing, he thought, without noticing that the sky was empty.
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November 2016 Week Four Part 2

The Premier and the Estates of the Realm

Halliday's Work

see hundreds of my work at Flickr
Just knock.

November 2016 Week Four Part 1

November 2016 Week Three Part 2

November 2016 Week Three Part 1

Oh my!

THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD

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THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD


Edwin Drood dies. But why? His girlfriend never understood him. Though she feared for her life at times. His enemies were numerous. But would they kill one of their best dealers. Did he cheat someone in a drug deal? Or was it something else. About the world. About himself.

November 2016 Week Two Part 2

Best of Feb. 2017

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Best of Feb. 2017