December 2015 – the end – Grandmother’s Cottage by James Bolton

Grandmother’s Cottage

by James Bolton

It was approaching the end of the summer, and for Jim Stapleton that presaged the annual week at his grandmother, Gretchen’s cottage. Jim decided that, as this was his last day of work before the ominous week, he would take one last chance to enjoy some peace.

He walked home from work this day, through the park at dusk, attempting to soak up the tranquillity, willing himself not to think of that woman he was forced to spend every last week of August with. Jim lit a cigarette and savoured the searing hit it gave his throat and lungs, shivering gleefully at the brief head rush it gave him. He hoped the drug would burn away gnawing thoughts of Gretchen, and that its smoke would erase any images of her from his mind’s eye. Continue reading


March 2014 – never forget – Judgement by James Bolton

Another little piece of Barnaby had died today. Just like the day before, and all the other days up to this one.

Barnaby had long since lost the feeling of relief and liberation that accompanied the end of a shift. The gnawing sense of pointlessness and emptiness his job gave him had previously abated at the end of each day. Now it had begun to stay with him on his way home, living inside him throughout the nights and weekends, thriving on his energy and his happiness like the larva of some foul wasp that, for some reason, had chosen his brain as a nursery for it’s ravenous progeny.
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