morning Bartlett, now twelve, is not in his room and his bed appears
untouched since the maid tidied the room the previous afternoon.
Sleepovers are for the family to receive, not grant; they don’t
appreciate sleeping elsewhere and would ordinarily not grant permission
to any of their children sleeping over at a friend’s house, not
even Darlene, who is sixteen. As far as the busy parents can recall,
Bartlett did not ask them whether he could spend the night at a
friend’s house, nor have they been receiving calls from anybody.
The alarm bells immediately go off.
A man who seeks a witch /
fortune teller to unveil what happened in his family’s old house,
which now appears to be cursed. Mystery short story.
No. 2 - Martha's Underworld
and seamlessly turning the subject away from her insurance claim and
her husband's death and towards the matter that is the real object of
my interest is by no means a simple task. She simply loves to speak
about her own difficult situation, her profound loneliness, now that I
have managed to gain her confidence. Yet, the moment I mention that Mr.
Wintergreen once stayed at her inn for over one week during winter, she
immediately seems to lose interest in herself, instead directing her
entire attention towards me. “Arnold?” she asks. “I suppose you're referring to my
husband’s fishing buddy who stayed at my hotel under an assumed
name, and I never even found out who he really was.”
A fisherman disappears during a
catastrophe, and his wife sues the insurance company, while his
youngest daughter turns inward. Charlotte, the elder sister, tries to
help a famous psychiatrist unlock the door to Martha’s darkened
soul. Mystery novella in three parts.
No. 3 - Strange Days
have been trying to ask relevant questions here or there, sometimes
merely to make myself known at other times in an attempt to change the
subject, but without much success. They briefly look at me as if I were
a complete stranger - which is true - then skip over my question as if
it didn’t really have a point that needed commenting upon. I feel
timid, humbled and overlooked.
Diary entries of a stranger who encounters every-day phenomena most of
us may take for granted, but which he finds utterly peculiar. Essay.
No. 4 - The Marksman Trilogy
punishment is very photogenic, far more so than the endless routine in
a confined and bare jail cell. Who does not recognize this ritual:
early rise and shine, a last meal, other requests, see the priest, a
moment for preparation, a walk accompanied by guards down a long hall,
the final technical preparations, a few words to mark the moment, then
silence during and right after an execution is unparalleled. No more
bickering about possible miscarriage of justice, appeals, new pieces of
evidence – it is over, get it!
Portrays a few prison officials, a few inmates, and a few
lawyers at a Texas correction facility notorious for its many
executions. Satire/drama in three parts.
No. 5 - Castle Engulfed in Fog and Darkness
“You seem to be getting restless,” Alexis observed,
“perhaps it is Spring that is pulling you closer to the
I?” Mr. Smyth was surprised at this suggestion, as he had been
doing his utmost to avoid appearing the slightest bit restless and
remained confident that his emotions – which were, admittedly,
leaning towards the unsettled – were well hidden.
A historian, among the selected few invited to visit the reclusive
Marquis de Toquille, lingers on after the other guests leave. This
gives him a winter to ponder upon what made these aristocrats withdraw
from the world – might the dusty family album perchance provide
some clue? Mystery novella in two parts.
No. 6 - Colors of the Mind
depression was such, their understanding of it had progressed to the
extent that they had come to attribute colors to it. Purple, rose,
pink, yellow - could have been roses. Black and navy blue were fearsome
signals of a depth at which one would not want to dip to, yet it had
been known to happen with unforeseeable consequences.
A crowd of people otherwise too
depressed to socialize form a party crowd in which colors are allowed
to speak for themselves. Essay.
No. 7 - Clouds Above Gibraltar
hung heavy above Gibraltar. Shades of gray prevailed as the fall was
fading and giving way to winter. Winters were usually mild around here,
but this year there had been a bit of a chill in the air. Thick clouds
attracted the eye towards the sky, struggling as they were to find a
silver lining… Then came the winds…
CLOUDS ABOVE GIBRALTAR is the story about a political prisoner and his fiancee. Historical drama.