Michael Whitehouse


The perfume haunted me. It fluttered through the air, teasing me, leading me towards an obscured end. I ran down hallways bathed in red tapestries, my night gown shuddering in the cold. Moonlight showed me the way as I searched for the perfume’s source. Around blind corners, through doorways of solid oak, into rooms once …

Perfume Read More »


The river runs foul with the stench of death. It won’t be long now. For ten years I have fled, found each and every rock to hide beneath, a plethora of gutters soaked in the outcast remains of civilisation. No city, nor village, nor town has provided me with shelter. No home or friend to …

Ashen Read More »


Let me tell you all a story. It’s one which I think is interesting, but at the same time frustrating for me. You see, it’s not mine. And for that reason I can’t develop it myself or adapt it into a complete tale. It’s supposedly an experience someone actually had, but the account seems so …

Sniff Read More »