This is a tale told in swirling water and foam falling from fang-edged rocks . . . Continue reading →

This is a tale begun in thin tendrils of mirk and ending in strands of cloud across an evening sky . . .

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This tale is told by the crash of waves, churning salt water and a clatter of rocks . . .

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This is part of the tale is told in drunken shouts from pub windows and one quiet, determined voice . . . Continue reading →

This is a tale told at night in stealthy footsteps and fretting heartbeats. . . Continue reading →

This is a tale told among cold wet rocks by  harsh spurts of brine and foam . . . Continue reading →

This is a tale told in broken spars and bladderwrack thrown high up on a stormy beach . . .
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This is a story told in swishing strands of seaweed and drops of brine from whiskers . . .

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This is a story told in scraps of paper, sparks and ash rising from a fire  . . .

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This is a tale told in spade-sculpted sand and rows of seashells . . .

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