The Harvest


The sign above the door read “Organs For Sale”. A little bell tinkled as Simon opened the door and went inside.  Simon looked around at all the white sterile surfaces. He smiled and relaxed. He’d come to the right place after all.

Simon dialed a number on his phone and listened. He heard a faint tune coming through the door at the back and followed the sound down a long corridor. The closer he got to the ringtone the longer the corridor grew until all he could hear was Oscillating Wildly and all he could see was a dot approaching infinity, far, far in the distance.

“Another donor safely in the trap Ma’am” announced Orderly Fields.

“Well done Fields!” said The Surgeon, “Soon we’ll have enough and The Harvest can begin.”


Copyright April 2017



It was Hallowe’en and all the beasties and ghosties and ghoulies were out and about scaring the children. All except one quiet little ghost who didn’t quite approve of Hallowe’en. Yes they were all having fun but was that appropriate at this time of the year, he thought watching the fake ghosts and vampires and clowns running past. There was nothing funny about the Gates of Hell being open, even if only for a few hours.

He sat on the wall brooding until a white dove settled down beside him. Now this is more like it he said to himself, an emissary from Heaven. The dove opened its mouth. The ghost prepared himself for the Pearly Gates. The dove morphed into a crow and pecked his eyes out before flying off laughing.

The little ghost sighed, picked up his eyes and put them back in. He really hated Hallowe’en.



Copyright October 2016

Apple Pie

Snow White sighed at yet another knock on the door. This was the seventh witch this morning giving her a perfect red apple. She thanked her kindly and slammed the door in her face. Did they think she was stupid?

After making seven beds and cleaning the house Snow White went outside and dug seven new garden beds. Exhausted she began to  cook dinner and make an apple pie to be cut into seven segments.

Finally she relaxed and waited for the seven little men to come home for their tea. Tomorrow, after a little work in the garden, she would be free.



Copyright October 2016

The Will

Dearest Charles

It is with heavy heart I write to tell you of the death of our beloved friend and benefactor James Modesto. It seems he had a heart attack shortly after my visit on Tuesday. 

After the funeral and the reading of the will I do believe it will not be long before I join you in Argentina where we may purchase the horse stud you are so keen on. 

Oh, and while I remember, thank you so much for the book on unidentifiable poisons you sent me. It came in handy. 

Yours Faithfully

Adeline Browbeater



Copyright October 2016