A Black Crane Story

The Red Ball

Henry Cox strides across the polished stone floor of his sitting room, and sits at his desk. He leans to the right to open the bottom drawer which is stiff and needs encouragement. He jiggles it slightly and it opens with an indignant squeal. Once he’d intended to oil it or run soap along the bottom runner, now…

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Lemon Barley

I go into the kitchen to make myself another cup of coffee and perhaps a glass of… just a glass of… Then it happens again. The word, this everyday word has gone. It’s a black hole, like looking down a lift shaft of memory. And, as always, that stab of panic. My tongue sticks to the top of…

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