Absent. That's what I was called by my fifteen year old daughter. The absent father. She did not know the truth, I worked undercover. Danger. Security. Empathy. Love. I had it all but I had nothing for my own family. That isn't true, I thought about... [Read more...]
I lost my grip on the wheel. The heavy wood slipped through my freezing cold wet fingers, the boat was out of control. Not that I was ever in control. Just a clueless passenger trying to help when the Captain was swept overboard in the rain lashing gale.
I have been frustrated for weeks. Can't come up with any ideas about 3d printers - articles or fiction I've been asked to write. Suddenly I realised a way around this. I sneaked out some brain matter from the lab at work and re-created objects on the machine ... [Read more...]
He set the plate before her. Two slices of charcoal blackened toast, plump stoneless cherry jam, no butter or spread. It wasn't punishment for climbing out the bedroom window to staying out late again. It was all they ever ate after mom died. The... [Read more...]
Jail. Only saw my dad once a month, too far to travel. He used to tell me funny stories, keep his mind off the grim reality of life inside. Never gave me a chance, either, to relate how the family were doing, what they felt about losing him.
£18,000. That is what the twisted gold wire bracelet was worth to me. Commonly known as a torc. Iron age. It was easy to steal and by the time anyone noticed the absence, it was being despatched by courier to a new home. That night I couldn't sleep. I've n... [Read more...]
Twist and he was dead. Broken neck. Watching the agony in the contorted face I could only stand in my own space of terror. Knowing that no-one would ever believe what happened. Instinct told me to run home, pack a bag, passport, money and take a plane to the... [Read more...]
It wasn't easy to stack the gold bars in the cellar. Very heavy. I kept one in my bedroom so I could look at it whenever I wanted. Part of me was trying to warn there was something strange going on, another (the greedy part) knew that it was synchroncit... [Read more...]
Publishing digital art is like going to a rooftop and tearing open a feather pillow. You can't control where the feathers go. You can't gather them all again. Ditto for digital art.
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