Beware the gifts you accept, or so said your elders. But it’s too late. You ask for the package: a present that comes with a curse. Demon Lover has granted you a pair of red shoes.
It doesn’t start with a kiss. It starts with the touch of bare knuckles under a molehill of cornflakes.
Travel east by train from Moscow and the clip of iron on track beats out the rhythm of your approach towards the Ural Mountains.
All souls are special. Son or daughter, Grimm or not, Life touches her spirit to every one of her creations.
Two thirty a.m., and no signal yet. The American was waiting in his cramped little room; waiting for a pulse that would tell him London was calling.
Eno trudged up the road. Big fancy property like this, maybe a chance to hit a lick.
My mother likes to hum. She stands at the stove, stirring this, tasting that, and humming, humming, humming.
Very recent hiredness was its own liminal state, Verity reminded herself, on the crowded Montgomery BART platform, waiting for a train to Sixteenth and Mission.
People ask me, ‘What was she like?’ and I try to figure out if they mean as a normal person: what was she like in her slippers, eating toast and marmalade, or what was she like as a mother, or what she was like as an actress – we did not use the word star
When they file back into the room, I’m no longer in the chair. Instead, I’m sitting on the table, bare legs swinging.
As Jane climbed over a hedge and landed in a pool of mud, some of which flew upwards and came to rest on her boots, gown and face, she paused for a moment, pondering whether behaviour like this might be the reason she struggled to find a husband.
She sleeps. A pale girl in a white room. Machines surround her. Mechanical guardians, they tether the sleeping girl to the land of the living, stopping her from drifting away on an eternal, dark tide.
Johnny Casey launched into a fit of energetic coughing – a bit of bread down the wrong way.
I was six and just the two of us, my mother and I, took Booey for a walk along the beach where she and Dad grew up, the shore a mix of black rock and pale cold sand.
Our destination was four kilometres from the village of Hommes, 210 kilometres south-west of Paris, and half a planet away from Sydney, Australia.
Welcome to an experience that could be one of the most rewarding times of your life.
There they go, at the beginning of it all, their younger selves, walking through the dark, winter streets of Sheffield: Daniel Lawrence and Alison Connor.
In 1943, Jewish doctor Eddy de Wind volunteered to work in Westerbork, a transit camp for the deportation of Jews in the east of the Netherlands.
‘Let us take that path.’ He closed the garden door behind her, and gestured towards the Elm Walk.
There’s a body on the Gurney Street tracks. Female, age unclear, probable overdose, says the dispatcher.
