WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY DEATH

Street fox by the bins chewing on a cigarette snarling at the lights that block out the night, he’s never seen the stars but he misses them. Death is kind of like getting your hair cut, you have to make chit chat and all that but you leave half satisfied, feeling small – you paid…

WHISKEY AND WATER

She’s in the bottle shop, again. Every Tuesday around four thirty she’ll be standing there, picking up bottles, reading the labels, placing them gently back on the shelf, umming and ahing over the malt, the strength, the price. Eventually she will settle on one, different each week; today, it’s Jamerson Black Barrel. Last week it…

ORIGINAL SIN

The tree of knowledge was a silent place. No aphids fed on its sap, no fungi bloomed from its roots, no ants or wasps buzzed and scuttled around its fallen fruit – they simply lay where they fell, sweetening the warm, still air until it was so thick you could gag on it, turning the…

STAGE DIRECTIONS FOR MORNING

i. Fatal archer shoots it’s golden rays, wakes a woman from her pavestone pillow. ii. Parakeets cry Mary, blessed mother are you with child again? What will he be this time, A king or a crook? They scream and shit their meaning to the Thames. iii. On a ferry deck a child cries. She doesn’t…

PEST CONTROL

A house mouse scuttles along the counter top, three crumbs from the toaster and some peanut butter, one last supper. Then the trap crunches shut, dark eyes chrome over oil black like freshwater pearls in a wave of brown fur. Other mice will take this as an act of warfare. They will assemble beneath the…