Originally posted on Crime Cymru:
At any time of year, but especially at Christmas, there’s something ghostly and enticing about the solitary and desolate world of lighthouses. In today’s Christmas story, Sally Spedding revisits the true mystery of the Flannan Isle lighthouse to transport us to an eerie tale of disappearance and loss. FRIENDS IN…
Category Archives: short stories
A Christmas Story by Dylan H. Jones
Originally posted on Crime Cymru:
Wales has a strong seafaring tradition, so to carry on with the maritime theme of our last Christmas short story, Dylan H. Jones brings us a haunting and atmospheric tale of a mysterious inn and a ghostly shipwreck. The fire spat up a spray of red-hot embers as Arthur Williams…
Short Story: Piggy in the Middle
December 16th is the birthday of Jane Austen, so to celebrate, here is a short story inspired by one of her more over-looked characters. That is my husband, the one in the middle. His position gives him pre-eminence, though they all look equally grand in their judge’s robes. The others lean inwards to confer withContinue reading “Short Story: Piggy in the Middle”
A CHRISTMAS STORY: THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT by THORNE MOORE
Originally posted on Crime Cymru:
During the run up to Christmas, the authors of Crime Cymru have come together to post short Christmas stories throughout December to the Crime Cymru website and its social media platforms. There will be a story every Wednesday, Friday and Sunday until the 22nd of December. Each story will be…
Short Story: Footprints
He tentatively tries the stairs. A couple of creaks but they seem solid enough. A bit of woodworm on the treads, but they’re not going to give way under him. Two rooms open off the cramped landing. Stevens ducks to the right under a lintel low enough to scalp the unwary, and straightens to lookContinue reading “Short Story: Footprints”
A Tale for All Hallow’s Eve
The clouds scud. There’s a moon up there somewhere, but it keeps vanishing. The same winds that tumble the skies are tossing the trees, whistling in their high boughs. When the moon creeps out for a moment or two, fat-bellied and gibbous, the shadows of thrashing branches snake and writhe across the road, black onContinue reading “A Tale for All Hallow’s Eve”
Thorne Moore 