The Power of Love
By James Gray
Mr. Fox wrenched open the door of his black 1985 Toyota SR5 pickup and slung his leather briefcase into the passenger footwell. He made a point of nodding towards a ground floor window of the main building, where the Tweed-clad “Rocky” Lyons was watching from the warmth of the teachers’ common room, cigarette dripping from his mouth.
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Allow 28 Days for Delivery
By James Gray
Mike’s eyes opened reflexively to the vision of a crisp white sheet billowing tent-like only inches above his naked body. He felt a growing irritation at the gentle currents of air that brushed his face like a tiresome fly and which were exaggerated by the dryness of his lips. He became aware of his arms, tucked in flat against his sides, his fists clenched and thumbs pointing downward as if he were lying to attention.
The Postcard
By James Gray
Ambrose leapt from his armchair. “Get in there, son!” he said, causing Brian to drop the glass he had been cradling while he slipped into an early evening TV slumber. Ambrose found himself watching in slow motion as the IKEA tumbler bounced off the floor and, he figured, at least two quid’s worth of Jameson’s soaked into the living room carpet. Under normal circumstances he would have throttled Brian and sent him back to the offy. Two quid’s worth of Jameson’s!
The Sam Supremacy
By James Gray
The wind took its cue from the fading light and began to blow ripples across the hillside until the surface resembled a gently swelling sea of green. Sam cocked his head to one side, trying to decipher the whispers, but they told him nothing he didn’t already know. He was surprised to find that the trail was long gone, but he was still able to follow the route, guided by instinct and echoes of the past. He trudged on towards the top of the hill, pausing occasionally to catch his breath whenever the wind gathered sufficient pace to stop him in his tracks. Read more
Sauce
By James Gray - Based on a true story
Timmy’s dream was broken by a hissing noise and he awoke with an urgency, trying to remember if he’d switched off the TV set before coming to bed. His eyes were stinging and yet he suddenly felt wide awake as he stared upward. A full Technicolor image of his father appeared to be projected onto the ceiling, though the silhouettes of the hotel room’s fixtures and fittings still hung in the dark around him.