Regret

— A standalone extract from my new book, about a mad painter in Renaissance Venice. He sat, up on the terrace, beneath a cloudy night sky that obscured the stars, everything but the moon that had reached the climax of its monthly journey. Even then, he could not make out the contours of that glowingContinue reading “Regret”

Capturing Perfection, Chapter 4

The fourth and final instalment of the short story. * * * Never have I worked so hard on a painting. Never. This had to be perfect because Lorenzo was perfect, and to picture him anything but was a travesty and a sin.   I ordered new brushes, tiny ones made from a few threads ofContinue reading “Capturing Perfection, Chapter 4”

Capturing Perfection, Chapter 3

The third instalment of the short story. * * * I wake up, aching all over. I am naked in bed, the covers pulled up around my thinning body.   I see that he is at the window, and when he realises I am conscious, he strides over and strikes me again on my face.Continue reading “Capturing Perfection, Chapter 3”

Capturing Perfection, Chapter 2

The second instalment of the short story. * * * His touch upon me was vile. His fat fingers, his greasy smile, his tiny eyes that had this triumphant gleam in them. As if he’d conquered me. He thought he’d conquered me.   Repulsive.   But that was not the worst part, not at all.Continue reading “Capturing Perfection, Chapter 2”

Capturing Perfection, Chapter 1

The first chapter in the short story. The soul is born, alive with music and colour and beauty. Our talents, meant to be explored and celebrated and shared with the world. But when that is stolen, the inner beauty becomes twisted by forlorn rage and rusty fear. And then the soul begins to crumble. *Continue reading “Capturing Perfection, Chapter 1”