Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Seventy Three
“What do you mean, my family?” “Your wife, grown up children, their families, how far do you want us to go?” If what had gone before was horrific this was worse, the flat way this [more…]
The Pocket
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Seventy Two
“Mistress Bowson?” He was thin, grey haired, bespectacled, scholarly looking, “Abbot Winwaloe wants you to know that the Exarch and Archimandrite wish to meet you tomorrow morning. Please don’t be alarmed. The Abbot will be [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Seventy One
Later that evening when she relayed his thoughts on Sam to Martha, the older woman broke down, confessing her fears for her adoptive son: the soul tarnishing effect of killing for any cause, the girl’s [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Seventy
THURSDAY, SECOND WEEK AFTER EASTER Curse them, just one network remaining intact and the shreds of a second now being reorganised. How long before those captured at the training base began spilling out names [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Sixty Nine
“Mistress Bowson, how are you, your son, the Yazidi girl? Are you still content where you are staying? Have you been studying the books I lent you?” “So many questions at once.” He smiled again [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Sixty Eight
Sally’s letter had asked her to attend a meeting the following day at the Civic Offices in St Joseph’s. She was to be accompanied by Iltud in preparation for the start of business with the [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Sixty Seven
Andy Bowson headed over to St Thomas’. He wasn’t needed for a while and could be spared while the chiefs tried to talk some sense into higher authority. So why so low now after the [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Sixty Six
Four hours later, two drone launched Hellfire missiles entered the upper stories of the house, at the same time shoulder launched anti-tank missiles blew in the front and rear doors and several windows. The Apache [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Sixty Five
Brother Peran, he seemed to prefer to be called that rather than Father, saying he was still a scholar-monk at heart, was at the door beaming, holding forth an envelope, hand written, made out to [more…]