dreamszilla

Ageing Terry Pike moves to Ely to be near his daughter, but becomes enchanted by a temptress of the fens, and finds himself in a puckaterry (an old word from East Anglia meaning to be in a panic, muddle, stress). Image generated with OpenAI Terry Pike planned to walk Cawdle Fen all the way to Cambridge. Following his retirement, Terry's daughter, Carly, strongly encouraged him to move nearer to her, into an Independent Living Facility chosen by Mike Voyles, the practical, humourless man she had married, and the father of Terry's two grandsons. A frank phone call from Mike Voyles had forced Terry to admit that the old family house was too big and that it was a lot for Carly and her crew to drive the couple of hours to see him. So, Terry had allowed himself to be cajoled into relocating. He quite enjoyed the attention and made more of an oppositional fuss than necessary. It was nice to feel wanted. Carly and Mike Voyles handled everything, and the move happened

16-year-old Jack's alcoholic mother leaves him with his estranged and eccentric grandfather for the summer, and he wonders if things can get any worse. Image generated with OpenAI 1984 As Jack stared at the empty bottles, a heaviness settled over him. It marked the final day of his mother's bender - the day she exhumed the dead. "We're going to visit your grandfather," she said casually, as if discussing what they would have for dinner. "His grave?" Jack asked. She rolled her eyes. "Your grandfather is alive. Have I never mentioned that?" his mother replied. He shook his head. "You said he was gone." "Well, he is to me," she mumbled. "But you're sixteen, it's time you met him." Jack crossed his arms. He had just returned from running errands for his mother and now took in her red eyes, wet cheeks, and bedhead hair. "And? There's got to be more. I passed Carl in the hall.&q

Jo is staying with temperamental property manager Gus, who gets off on the wrong foot with a new tenant. Image generated with OpenAI Jo blows smoke from her cigarette out the window, wishing she could block the neon sign of the El Dorado blinking in the distance. She stubs the butt out in the ashtray stolen from the same casino and stands up from her perch on the window sill. Gus is still going on. "I pick up a box. Just trying to be helpful. He shouts at me! 'Don't touch that!' So, I drop the box and flip him off." Gus bums one of her cigarettes. "What an asshole!" He drops the lighter back on the window sill. "Good one, Gus. Very professional." Jo yanks up her halter top and wipes the sweat from between her breasts. "Can we do some AC in here?" The heat is giving her a headache. She needs water. Gus aims the fan toward the kitchen, and he flops into the sagging couch. "What I want you to do is -" Jo spl

Jimmy, an Irish labourer working on the Transcontinental Railroad, resorts to desperate measures to help his ailing friend. Image generated with OpenAI "Where is that little shite?" Jimmy O'Shea squinted into the Utah sun, scanning the railway line for the boy with the water bucket. He wiped the sweat from his face with his dirty neckerchief. A new layer of wet, salted misery pooled under the band of his hat, sending a runnel down Jimmy's temple as he adjusted the brim. Beside him, Finn McHugh leaned on his shovel. "Don't be so hard on the lad. Crocker's been running him ragged all week." Crocker . Just the sound of that name made Jimmy's hands curl into fists. No man was more hated among the railroad labor camp than the foreman who rationed their food and demanded they lay eight miles of track a day. The only thing Jimmy hated more than Crocker was his dog, Monty - a preening, nasty creature, always at Crocker's side while