A collection of some of the short stories I write, feel free to read away. Alternatively you could absently wonder why you ever came to this site in the first place, and read little, less or none of the material here.

There was supposed to be the titles of the stories here with links to them on their own areas of the page...but something odd went very wrong and they kept linking back to the homepage which I could neither work out nor fix, so I'm afraid you'll just have to scroll...!

A Love Story There once was a man and a woman who loved each other very much. They had loved each other for as long as they could both remember, and even before then. But one night, as they lay together and wrapped their arms around each other's love for the other, they dreamed the same dream. They dreamed that the man grew into a giant, until he grew so large that the woman only reached his ankle. She peered up to see a tear grow in his mighty eye. And as it fell and crashed to the ground it showered her and she gave a shriek. At this, the man bent down and held her in his colossal hand. He whispered to her (for fear of hurting her ears), and stuttered between sobs, his anguish; "I cannot hold you for fear of hurting you. I cannot kiss you; I would smother you, and if you were to hold me, you would only brush me as an insect. And if you were to kiss me I would feel it only as an itch." "Then," she shouted (so he could hear her), "I will scratch your itch, I will whisk away your insect, I will learn to breathe in your kiss, and I will make myself strong so your hold will not harm me." And the giant man let out another tear and kissed the woman. The couple decided to set out on a journey to find someone to cure the man. In their dream they travelled for years, and they saw no one. Not a single person was to be found. Finally the man whispered; "You must leave me. There is no one to cure me, and there is no future for us, you must find another." But she shook her head. "Have you forgotten? I have grown strong and capable. Capable to love you as you are. And there is no one else." This was true. And the man was happy and sad all at the same time, and feeling this emotion should have a name, he called it 'love'. And in their dream the couple grew old and finally died together. And in their bed, the couple awoke and cried and cried, and held each other until it did hurt, and kissed until they could no longer breathe, and rejoiced in their bittersweet emotion; love.

Me and Him "So what do we do now?" he said, looking at me with bored eyes and leaning back on his arms. "I guess we just sit here and watch Time go by." I sat up and comforted my knees with my rounded arms. How could he be bored? It was the most beautiful garden I had ever "I'm bored of watching Time go by," he announced suddenly, and with one swift movent tripped Time over so it fell flat on it's face. I sighed and enquired if it was really necessary to knock Time unconscious? "Think about it," he whispered, a new glint in his bright eyes, "What could two mischievous beings do with Time itself?" I smiled then. Perhaps I needed an adventure too, and I already had a plan. "Well, now we can travel anywhere in Time we like." He seemed excited at this prospect. "Ohh, where shall we go? We can see the Egyptians stretch their pyramids to the Aztec gods surrendering their culture to the French Revolution." But I was thinking bigger. "But my dear, why watch them pray to their gods when we could be among the heavenly bodies." "I'm not quite following you dearest," he frowned. "Think about it," I whispered, a new glint in my bright eyes, "If we go into the future, our descendants are bound to have worked out how to achieve long distance space travel." "My goodness, you're right!" I smiled and let him take over. "Hold on tight my dear!" he exclaimed, and with a nudge to Time's ribs, we were off.           As it is with time travel we found ourselves spiralling through a translucent wormhole twisting through the fabric of space. He looked a little travel sick so I smiled and tried to raise my hand to his arm, but moving through the material that weaves our Time, this proved a little easier said than done. Indeed, it took so long that by the time my fingertips brushed his elbow, we were there. Wherever there was "Where are we?" We looked around, well actually first we both looked upwards, as the stars were close and bright and there was a multicoloured dream coat nebula directly above us. When wishing on the stars was all but over, we stared at the dust gathering at our shoes. It was the deepest shade ofa colour I'd never seen. I took a deep breath of the freshest air I'd ever tasted and looked peacefully around. How would you expect the future to be? It was a little like you'd expect, and a little what would be unexpected. We kicked up dust on our way to what at least looked like a station of sorts. It reminded me so clearly of the pictures a homeless man used to create on the streets of my hometown. He'd use shapes like paper plates and tins and spray paint around or against them to create space age domes. He'd build up layers and paint over it before scratching through to release the colour. They were the most beautiful pictures I'd ever seen, and what lay before me was like that poor man back then had visions of the future.           At what appeared to be the front door we were greeted by a lady who looked just like the people from our time, except that she had no little fingers. Perhaps this was part of evolution. I hoped so, I'd always considered little fingers to be useless. "Time travellers?" she asked in a bored tone. "Why yes," I said a little bemused. She must have detected the shock in my voice, for next she said; "We get a lot of Time travellers to this Time. Feel free to wonder around and ask questions, but you mustn't stay longer than a day, or the Time-space continuum will be severely disrupted, and it's such a hassle to put it right again." She shook her head as if remembering the last time this had happened. We nodded our heads timidly and stepped into the complex building.           Immediately we were surrounded by humans and other beings you'd normally associate with interstellar travel. The braver children began asking us questions about our world and our lives and we answered them as best we could. We soon found ourselves sat on a wide circular ledge that surrounded an amphitheatre of stairs leading to a broad old tree that one assumed had stood there for generations to remind the architects of home. I hadn't noticed my hands we resting on the cool marble of the ledge until a small girl with a look of angelic innocence delicately lifted up my little finger and giggled. I drew my hand away so fast the little girl disappeared back into the crowd as fast as her dumpy little legs could carry her. "What are your names?" A brave, stout little boy standing near the front was looking at us with intense curiosity. "Me and Him." I said simply. The boy frowned, as if he was trying to figure out what was wrong with that statement. Finally he said; "Yes you and him, who else? Look, I'm called Esper, what are your names?" I blinked. "Me and Him," I said, "Those are our names." "I didn't know our ancestors had such strange names," he said, and seemingly unsatisfied he shuffled back through the crowds. "I don't think I want to be here anymore." I stared fixedly at my feet and wound my little fingers round each other. Him looked at me. "Me, are you afraid to fall in love? " "What?" I had been talking about leaving, not love. Why had he said that? "I love you Me. Let's go home." How he did it I'll never know; we hadn't considered how we'd get back home, but Him closed his eyes and when I opened mine we were back in the garden. Bright leaves and burning wood shimmered around us, and Time was not where we'd left it. He leaned back on his arms. "So what do we do now?"

The Man Who Wanted to be God Once, long before you or I were born, or even before our souls were born, there lived a man. He was like many men have come to be; vain, self-righteous and uncaring. He lived as men of this type often do - alone and without pity. Though, of course, he couldn't care less.           A man this vain felt the need to prove himself to himself and one day set out on another of his reckless journeys. Nobody paid any attention to him. He always came back within a year with wild tales and nothing to show for it. But this time he did something no-one, not even he, expected - he succeeded. And the results changed the face of things to come for a long time. The events between this time and the present day are inconsequential as life continued in it's new fashion with few major upsets. People were very placid in those days, and took it in their stride. However nowadays people can be put into many different groupings, one of the most important being whether they are a Breaker or a Protector.  There are those, like March, who break things. Bones, china, people, hearts, anything. In March's case, never intentionally, but nevertheless a trail of destruction followed her. Then there are those like Granite who protect things. Granite loved March very much, and protected her at all costs. March, although she loved him too, charged her way through life without much real thought to him; other than that she could always depend on him.           And so it was that one day March formed an idea in her head, and Granite followed. They set off to find what it was that ruled the world. Who made those strange coincidences occur, who created deja vu, who made you suddenly think of something which suddenly turns up on TV or on the radio just minutes later. Of course, many people thought this meant March and Granite were going off to find God. Many elderly relatives were very pleased and sent them on their way with generous sums of money and a wet kiss. However, March was a Breaker, and the purpose of her quest was not to embrace this God figure, but to break him. It was not that she hated him, she was a girl pure of heart, but she resented the way his idea enslaved everyone around her. This time she knew what she was breaking; free. Now, the search for God is obviously not an easy one. They searched high and low for a good many years, gathering information in March's favourite (and by now very worn) leather-bound notebook. Every theory about every ruler from every culture was recorded, but still March kept flicking back to page which contained a single quote from a single man they'd found in the outskirts and shanty towns of some country way over there. A little excited in the midday sun they asked everybody under it what their opinion was on God, or a Divine Being Of Some Sort. And this man had said simply this; 'Surely a being who communicates through strange, subliminal messages is not quite as in control as he seems.' It was this that March and Granite now sat debating on a rock attended by a sharp breeze from a blazing diamond-studded sky. Or rather, March suggested things, and Granite nodded. That was how it always was. By March talking herself in and out ideas they finally settled on one last path; a search of all asylums for patients who believed they were God. Perhaps surprisingly, only one was found. Surviving this long in the world March and Granite had many ways to get themselves in and around places they shouldn't; and increasingly without being noticed at all. So walking slowly down the dirty white corridor towards a door marked 'God' should have seemed quite routine for March. But as she looked around she felt herself peeling slowly like the paint on the tired walls and as a wave of smiling nurses came towards her unaware of her she began to crumple... But Granite was there. He caught her and smiled; a real, fresh, warm smile. She looked at him. Really looked at him. He quickly shifted her back onto her feet and gave her a little push in the direction of the door. Although a little taken aback, March straightened herself up and strided headlong towards the door. A careful push revealed that it was open, which was odd. Another coincidence March pushed to the back of her mind. She walked in.           Therein sat a man. On March's first impression he looked quite ordinary. Short dark hair sat comfortably on his small rounded head. Not much of his face could be seen; he was sat on the edge of a dull bed with his head down looking at his clasped hands. March stood in front of him with Granite directly behind her. for perhaps the first time in their long journey, she was nervous. she wanted to run. But Granite was right behind her and God was right in front. her protector gave her a reassuring touch on the arm, just as the man seated on the bed began to rise his head. March wanted to turn, to run, but as her eyes met his she was trapped. The eyes that burned into hers were liquid blue, like a breath of clear summer sky, but somehow they frightened March. She opened her mouth in a fleeting moment of astonishment, but a tighter grip on her arm from Granite reminded her of the purpose of their quest. She straightened and squared herself, and trying the best she could to hide the fear in her voice, she said; "Hello?" The man finally finished raising his head and smiled. But the smile was not at them, more at some half-remembered old joke. March was feeling more insecure by the second. Even Granite's now very harsh protection on her arm was not enough to steady her. Feeling by now like a timid child she asked; "Are you God?" The man sighed. "I suppose." His voice was neither deep nor serious as March had imagined. "I am God while I am awake and my own while I sleep. Have you ever seen as much wonder in sleep as I have? In sleep I can escape to a world beyond what I can control. In waking I must control the world again. Ruling the world is torture." March gave in thinking. She just let herself believe him. "Can't you just always be asleep?" she offered a little helplessly. He smiled again. "You know as well as I do that's impossible. Now, I have asked everyone who I ever set eyes on to help me, but you're the first I believe who could do it. In the office closest to the lift on the second floor of the last building in London there sits a man writing. Everyone assumes he's writing for the company. It may not surprise you to find he's not. He's writing Destiny. But here's the important bit. He's writing it in pencil. He's been writing mine for the same for millennia. It's my fault for wanting it. Rule the world. You can help me. Pencil can be erased. You have to change my destiny. Please, I want to sleep forever, in that world no-one can control, least of all me. Change yours as well if you like, I don't care." March, who had stopped trying to understand some time ago, simply nodded. This was the last thing she had planned in her life anyway. Any extension of her adventure was ok by her. Without a word she turned on her heel and marched out, this time unhindered by Granite, who had silently stepped aside. With a polite nod to God, he swiftly followed her. No matter how many times the impossibility of finding the last building in London ran through March's mind, she kept going. However much the image of God's eyes burned through her, she kept going. However much more attention she paid to Granite's every move, she kept going. London was a different sight than when she left it. it was flat. apart from one building. News said it was a freak weather incident. Some said it was the work of God dealing punishment to those who had sinned. March lead Granite into the rubble around the base of the last building in London and up the stairs to the second floor. The lift was out of order. March was nervous again, but this time less so. After all, she had stopped trying to give reason to things. this time she walked down a flaking grey corridor more sure-footed, this time she was not surprised that the door was ajar. She was also not surprised to find a fairly ordinary-looking man sitting at a desk with a chewed pencil and a large book. He didn't look up as he said; "Come to change our destiny have we? Here." He lifted the book over his head without looking round. March took it. she also took the chewed pencil offered to her by the as yet unseen front of the destiny writer. Her eyes fell to the large book, and she felt compelled to read the last paragraph: Krilé Santer achieves her dream to climb a glacier, and dies happily at the top. Her husband Joe Santer has many flings before dying a lonely man. Their child Mary Santer goes on to have a run of bad relationships and commits suicide by overdose on 5th July. "Write what you like. It really doesn't matter." March's gaze was wrenched from the book and her eyes shot a startled look at the back of the destiny writer's head. March gave up giving up thinking. She collated all the thoughts swimming in the back of her mind and made her stance as powerful as she could. "I don't want to change my destiny," she said courageously, "I want to change God's." The destiny writer wheeled around furiously. "What!?" he stuttered. Now March was in control. "I want to set God free, to let him sleep forever. I want end his torture." March felt brave. She felt strong. She felt she was doing the right thing. "I suppose you think you're doing the right thing? Fine, change it, but remember the consequences. Remember your dear old relatives? Where would they be without God? The religion is still very well spread. The world would be in turmoil without it. Don't you see, the world is not ready to give up God yet. It would not cope. It's up to you." March had lost control again. Her choice now was either to destroy the world by telling it what it was not ready to know, or to protect it against the truth and throw away all she had sought and fought for all this long time. For a long while it seemed, although it was really only a few moments, she stood with the book resting in her arms and the pencil in her hand. Then, she began to write. When she had finished, she handed the book back to the destiny writer. He read over what she had written, which was this; On the day of 5th July the 23rd daughter of March and Granite will come again to the destiny writer and therefore free God to eternal sleep. For by then the world will be ready to be free. It was this moment that March changed from being a Breaker to a Protector. She took Granite's hand and smiled at him. He smiled back, and they left.