My journal of big words and pretty pictures
Teev shook the can of red spray paint. Through practice and skill, he could make the telltale click of metal ball bearings rattling around in the can sound like crickets and cicadas. Thick, overgrown reeds, pine needles, and small twigs and sticks gave good cover as the tagger slipped through the field. Red veins, painted … Continue reading Tagger
Goodwood Duxford tales... The mound of bricks was a haphazard scatter of broken masonry columns mixed with single terra-cotta bars, still a vibrant burnt orange. Tuffs of green poked up through cracks along the outer perimeter, but the weeds and field grass were remarkably tame considering the decades of opportunity to overwhelm the pile. The … Continue reading The walls came tumbling down
The storefront looked abandoned. A rusty padlock secured the entrance, and a crazy quilt of plywood was nailed to one side of the display window. The other side was coated with a thick layer of grime. Someone had written, “Wash Me,” with their finger in the dirt. A hand-painted “For Sale” sign, tucked into the … Continue reading Upwardly mobile
Mildred frowned. She would never get back those last four hours. The wasted time was only redeemed by also being spent with her granddaughter, Stella. The same granddaughter who insisted she could teach her grandmother how to use a smartphone. Emojis, texts, apps, camera and voice messaging… it was all so foreign. Whatever happened to … Continue reading Book ‘im, Danno
The strap of Jessamine’s bag cut into her shoulder. It was packed with a selection of rare and remarkable books that had taken three years to track down and acquire. She was taking them to market to exchange for an invaluable prize. It would all be worth it when the transaction was complete. Miser Crabbe … Continue reading Storybook ending
What came before, "Masterpiece"... With each new conquest, Gabriel Poynter felt more alive. Ironic that her sensation of ecstasy came because of a death. Rasher Castille bid on the Poynter oil because of the intriguing widow of the artist, and because of the swirling rumors about a studio filled with more oil canvases. Predictably, when he … Continue reading Alchemist
Thin spiral notebook 