Arthur Jekyll was a doctor. Of course he was, how could he be otherwise, when both his parents, and their parents before them, had been doctors? What other options did he have when all the terrors and comforts of his formative years had been acco
For the real Marco.
A man stood at the edge of a large, shallow artificial pond. Something caught his eye, an object bobbing on the otherwise smooth surface of the water. For a
It was a chill, rain-washed afternoon of a late August day, that indefinite season when partridges are still in security or cold storage, and there is nothing to hunt unless one is bounded on the north by the Bristol Channel, in which case one may
Floyd swung open the glass door. It was earlier than he’d usually arrive to the diner. He had energy, and a fierce appetite. Sliding off his bulky knapsack and dropping it to the floor, he took a stool at the counter and snapped open a menu. The