TFH
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My stories
La Femme d'argent

How could I forget the autumn of 1998, and that weekend in Paris? A sullen, funereal mist folded around the city for the entire three days, fallen...
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- 9486 reads
Three cold kisses

With a flick of his thumb, Jim sent ash from a Players cigarette towards the battered round receptacle he’d borrowed from the Chalk Farm Tavern, and...
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- 3265 reads
Ebb and flow

Marley was dead, to begin with: there was no doubting it. The stress of leaving his wife, moving to Pattaya and spending six months in the clutches...
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- 1626 reads
No silver lining

"How do you carry on, Paula?" Amy watched the back of her friend as she stood in front of the kitchen unit, pouring the contents of a boiling kettle...
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- 1874 reads
Stargazer

That morning, when I saw that an old caravan had somehow arrived in the clearing at the top of Burnside Wood, I must admit that I unlocked the gun...
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- 2246 reads