Danny had heard the stories. When he was younger, they were akin to that of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, but as he aged out of those stories, the Dirtman remained. It was fun at first, collecting dirt from the garden and arranging it in a neat little pile under his pillow before bed,… Read more: Dirtman

The morning sun was hazily making its way up above the Alps, through the clouds, and about the snow-capped mountain tops. Umberto was happily sat at the edge of the lake, one fishing pole in hand, and another, mounted, and tactically placed to his right. It had been a successful morning so far, Umberto guessed… Read more: Teach a man to fish

There is no wind in the marshes. The heat sticks to the grass and the trees as the insects float lazily over the heat waves, visible across the horizon. In a quiet little cabin, buried in the woods, Blake sat at the kitchen table, tacitly cleaning the barrel of his revolver. Technically, the gun belonged… Read more: The Marshes

Daryl was lazily perched on his sun-lounger, alone in his back garden, with a cooler of beer on his left-hand side, and a table full of snacks on his right. Ordinarily, Daryl would set the lounger to face away from the house, but on this particular Sunday, he had lifted the lounger – revealing a… Read more: Daryl and the Meteor