Old Stories, Old Desires I do not remember when I first began to wish that the mirror would answer. The impulse is so old that it is rarely experienced as a conscious desire — more as something inherited, a reflex of the imagination that we all acquire as we grow up and become…

Recently, for the umpteenth time, I watched The Wall again — Pink Floyd and Alan Parker. Only this time, unlike before, I was watching it with my son. I tried to warn him in advance not to pay attention to me: basically, the electric jolt I get every time I encounter this…

The sound of the footsteps – dragging and slow, like someone shuffling their heels across the floor – was driving him mad. Every time they came from above, he would change rooms: from the living room to the kitchen, then through the dreadfully creaky glazed door into the small…

Chapter one: Deadlock again Rain clouds, dark and puffed-up like turkeys, had been threatening to unleash their wrath on the dreary town all day, but so far had remained all threat and no action, as if to annoy everyone even more. Anne-Firecurl, herself gloomier than even the…