LESLIE MCBRIDE WILE Somewhere a bell was ringing—an old bell, a school or a church bell, swinging slow and heavy. Joanne surfaced, up from sleep into the sonorous pealing, felt the darkness of early morning on her eyelids. She sensed…
JOHN I. CLARKE Cold, wet snow driving against the window. The sky is grimly grey and I don’t think we’ll see any real daylight at all. Not today. One of those days best wrapped up and forgotten about. I’m sitting…
FRANCES FAHY If I saw someone like me, an almost six-foot tall, 24 year-old slim, blond waitress with typical Nordic features, carrying a laden drinks tray and trying to navigate her way between tables on four-inch heels, in a crowded…
SILVANO GREGOLI. THE 60s, VALL’ELLERO The Dwarves of Norea! Whenever I think back to that remote spring morning, I feel a disturbing sensation of disbelief. Did it really happen? Yet the story unfolds from a beam of initial certainties. The…
JOHN I. CLARKE Footsore and weary, the Historic Tour of the City group completed their trip as Ed made his final pitch for big juicy tips. “Well here you are folks, back to the Minster. Keep safe and enjoy the…
FRANCES FAHY Seven chimes of the Cathedral bell. Faster! She reaches HighBridge. Nobody around. She leaves bag and note near the Bridge Newsagent’s kiosk. Mum’s souvenirs. She grips the phone and climbs onto the bridge. Tried telling you, Mum! You’re blind!…
(here a review of the movie) In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the…
