Sin… Second Death

Sin… Second Death

These visions of being a deserting Confederate soldier were really interfering with my work day. Well, I say ‘visions’… That implies I went into a trance and mystical images visited me, foretelling events in my dim, dark future. I always thought the...

Sin… the black stump…

Have you heard of the black stump? It’s not like the fabled black spot of the pirates, immortalised in Treasure Island – although if you came across it, your time might be ticking away just as much as if the palm of your hand had suddenly had a black hole...

Sin… Wendy Wotsit….

Wendy Wotsit, in another life, may well have been the female equivalent of Billy Graham. She had a tone and a presence that commanded respect and had a voice that swept over you like a tsunami, washing away all fear and self-loathing. It was a pity she was doolally....

Sin… Raindrops…

Raindrops. I prefer the big fat bad round drops that almost hurt when they hit you in the face. The ones where you could almost dance between them. Much more satisfying than the miserly mizzle of the thin and weedy “can’t be arsed” variety. Connors...

Sin… Surprise…

There’s a town in the old mid-west – that’s out there in the US of A, y’all – called Surprise. They say it’s called Surprise because the founders would be surprised if it ever became more than the meagre scrabblings it began life...

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