Fiction

My Lord. Human physicists were strange creatures. They wanted to know how their universe began. Who knows why? What possible benefit could they get from that knowledge? How could those puny pieces of matter even think they were capable of probing the vast intelligence My Lord possesses?

Amy gets hairy but it turns out to be much worse than the onset of puberty.

Stepping over a twisted damp discarded bra I caught sight of her. Standing by some feeble looking new trees she was chainsmoking Rothmans, swearing into her mobile phone and doing her best to ignore her screaming child. Her milky complexion was peppered with medium tan freckles and her short skirt hugged slim pale thighs.

Musings on childhood.

Did you hear the one about the gag-writer?

From that day the mysterious woman barely left Somchai's home for some three weeks. He noticed that he also saw less of the villagers when he travelled about his land. That however did not concern him so much as his mind was fixated upon the woman in his house. He was terrified of frightening his new house guest away and took pains to cater for her every need.

Some ten years had passed. Although he was satisfied with his life he had almost given up on meeting a woman to take as his wife. The realization nagged at him more persistently that there was every probability that his life would remain a lonely one. Thinking more about this every day he realised that he was still a relatively young man. There was still the chance to return to the city.

The story goes on

There was no reason for Somchai to live in a small house in the forest. He had been born into a wealthy family in Bangkok. An only child, his parents had doted on him. Nothing was too much for him. He was their special child. He was particularly special since they had almost lost him to Polio as a youngster.

I watched Ellen lying beside me; my sweat drying on her skin

Summer of love. Underground.

A bright day. Daffodils.

The best that I can guess is that some bad guys cased me and decided that they would wait all day on one of the routes that I use to get to the bank for as many days as it took for me to use that particular route, and then they would strike. And strike they did.

The lipstick she wears is sweet.

Julian's Manila story triggers a seismic event.