The snow accumulated on the windows, each crack within the panes accentuated like the swift breaking of an ice-covered lake under an unfortunate traveler's feet. The cat was gone, his resilience amongst mice and rabbits unable to extend into the movements in the darkness. Graham's hand trembled, nearly spilling the last dram of his Aberlour, long-reserved for such a desolate and--until recently--seemingly lifeless evening. Squinting into the shadows with blue-veiled, bespectacled eyes, he… Continue

<------------- Bill





Carol singers? Nasty enough for a man of Graham’s Scrooge-like temperament. But the scarlet stains in the snow seemed to deny that, and although the bloke at their head (NOT the one Graham had thrown) looked Biblical enough – long beard and ground-draping cloak – the half dozen followers looked anything but festive – and no, their hands weren’t clasped in prayer but were ...… Continue