The girl who came in from the cold – a Christmas story

It’s Christmas Eve. There’s a wintery bite about it, and it’s looking like a damp Christmas tomorrow. That thought grips Anna’s heart with pinched bramble fingers. The dread on top of realisation that she’s found herself here. That she’s stuck, where dreams don’t come true and her feet are always cold. The words from a … Continue reading The girl who came in from the cold – a Christmas story



Beaming light finger columns draw and glow Across her brow to pull her secret hold. A casket in her heart lies cold and low Piqued with worry, wonder, fright to unfold.   Blocking shadowed black scares behind her back; Cowering thoughts of running, Unmoving, thoughts of staying. Outcomes flood thoughts. Drowning. She sees her track. … Continue reading Secrets

Leave a message after the tone – a murder mystery

‘Are you not hearing me?’ his voice pushed through in a whisper-shout, with as much muster as he dared without raising his voice. This brightens Amber’s face and her day equally. Jack Murray is one member of the law enforcement team who is never under pressure; it's a nice change to hear him rattled. In the five years … Continue reading Leave a message after the tone – a murder mystery

Signs of Deceit

Writing by Ailbhe

cory-bouthilletteThe thought of being early for lunch with Jen is a thorn in Amber’s side that hurts like a fall from a bike onto salted barbed wire. She can’t do it. She circles the block one more time. Fashionably late would work.

Stepping into the mutely lit restaurant, she feels the heat of the spot lights on her forehead and her cheeks roast when she passes the cordoned off kitchen with tongues of culinary flames spitting from large pans. She catches Jen’s eye and gets a beautiful wave and a glossy smile. That’s a relief.

Amber tosses her keys on the table with her phone face down, slings her handbag over the arm of the chair and sits. She wishes she had buttoned another few buttons of her blouse and had worn jeans. Everything blurs except for Jen’s face.

‘Hey, what time did you get home last night? I was shot,’ she busies herself pouring water into the…

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