Below is a ‘teaser’ from my short story ‘The Guest House’ which appears in the superb anthology ‘Static Dreams -Volume Two’, edited by Tara Caribou.

I hope that you enjoy it and, if you do, that you might consider purchasing a copy – an excellent companion in these strangest of times. I have included several links at the end of this post.

Thank you!

Margot found herself behind the wheel of her car. She was parked up by the side of the road, the small town that she had last driven through now far behind her, when the tears came. With no destination she had been driving for what seemed like hours, although now, for her, time itself had lost all meaning or relevance. She had climbed into the car in the hope that it would provide protection, or at least a distraction, and take her far from the steadily cracking ground upon which she had been standing. She had driven through the suburbs, hard and fast, intent only on escape; escape from the city and escape from the rapidly unravelling memories upon which she now felt her life had been built. The streets and houses had all fled by without notice, hiding their faces in the shadows as the car sped past them. Its tires hissed angrily on the still-wet tarmac as if they were somehow complicit in her rage. As she reached the quieter streets the lights began to grow dimmer, less frequent, as if even they were feeling the same pain that Margot was. The anger inside her now was beginning to evolve into something else, something far more complex and destructive. She felt a wave of disappointment suddenly hit her and, as she gasped for air, it seemed as if it would drag her beneath itself and drown her. With it it brought an overwhelming sensation of loss, as if twenty-seven years of marriage had simply vanished, leaving no trace of her life or who she was. And then there was the shock, the sense of injustice that, after all that he had said to her, and all that she had said to him – the promises and little intimacies that stretched between couples like spider silk – the words ultimately meant nothing: in the end the attraction of youth held sway over everything. And youth it was, it seemed to Margot, which had wrenched her husband from her and led him to the arms and then the bed of another. She had no idea, no indication, of who this other woman was – her husband had not even afforded her that dignity – but she wondered if this woman, this home-breaker, might not have been merely a younger version of herself.


Lulu :

Both books, all versions

Barnes & Noble/Nook:

Both books, all versions


e-book only, obviously

Volume One

Volume Two


Volume One paperback

Volume One e-book

Volume Two paperback

Volume Two e-book