Well, here it is

Far be it from me to try and steal any of Mr Stuart's thunder. His wonderful celebration of the twelve days of Christmas makes mockery of my limited creative output. But it has also acted as a timely kick up the bum and urged me to get on with the writing thing. After all, you can't call yourself a writer if you spend all day mooching around and wondering why nothing's getting done.

So here, for your delectation, a strange story from the underbelly of Edinburgh. It's more of a post-Christmas tale, so I perhaps should have waited until next week to post it. But in the spirit of festive cheer, you can both read it now.

And if it makes you feel charitable, then make a donation to something worthy (there's no point my suggesting you go to The Hunger Site, as you've already clicked that for Mr Stuart now, haven't you.)

Right. I'm off to walk the dogs.

Comments

Sandra Ruttan said…
Spooky in an X-Files/"Twilight Zone"-theme-song humming in the background kind of way.

Maybe some people really are heartless.
John Rickards said…
Very nice, Mr Stuart. Very nice indeed.
JamesO said…
Hmmm. Either that's some kind of veiled, double-blind insult, or Mr R's been at the window-cleaner again.

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