“The Old Bird” by J.M. Williams
The body was crumpled on the floor. Purple blood spilled away, taking the shape of a crooked tree . . .
The body was crumpled on the floor. Purple blood spilled away, taking the shape of a crooked tree . . .
In four years William had read through countless declarations of affection and promises of riches, searching for the one. Here it was at last: the love he’d been waiting for . . .
Fans of Ian F. Svenonius, take note: Ian is embarking on a nationwide tour to promote Censorship Now!!
Marlowe felt his life crumbling around him. He had recently been called before the Privy Counsel, a combination grand jury, federal prosecutor and Supreme Court. His friend and roommate, the playwright Thomas Kyd, had been arrested for treason . . .
After the meal we headed back to the Groucho Club. We were a few drinks in now. We went upstairs and had some cocaine in the restroom . . .
University College, London. Johnson marched me through the clipped campus, down echoing corridors, past alabaster busts and locked doors. At the end of a long corridor, he stopped at a door marked Private.
“It’s never too late for university, Cartier,” he said, knocking.
The stink of Thames mud woke me and I knew he was back . . .
To celebrate the release of Bernardine Evaristo’s Mr. Loverman, we’re very pleased to feature Chapter One in its entirety!