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Anthem for Doomed Pagans
Shining, the sacred manner of goodbyes.
The marker of heroes' choice shall be their stone;

There are warmer days and the height of summer, with all the attendant lazy evenings in the garden, daytrips, holidays, festivals and fayres, isn't too difficult to anticipate now.

Far From Me
It was peaceful there too, in its depths, away from the day-trippers, and it had an almost tangible air of loneliness, which suited his mood to the ground.

Friends of the Heroes - Who Are These People?
Yes, the Friends of the Heroes seems to me to be an honourable league to join. I can make tea, dish out moral support, hold coats and feed any number of pets. I can even tell the stories.

Imbolc - The Quickening
It's the time when keen gardeners come rushing in from the garden with their faces glowing and little squeals coming from their throats. They grab the nearest person and drag them out into the cold, then do a happy dance while shouting 'Look! Look!'.

Love and War
She was staring at him above her words, trying to see him beneath that mask of fury and violence. She knew, as everyone knew, that he wouldn’t, couldn’t stop now.

Spring Equinox
Or, in short, at Spring Equinox, we are celebrating the fact that, far from the vague hints of Imbolc, we now have concrete proof that we have survived the harsh times.

St Valentine's day
The now sainted Bishop Valentine had helpfully got himself executed for assisting secret lovers on the eve of the feast; so he got to be the feast's new name.

Swansong for Mon
The Empire could afford vast standing armies, which didn't have to return for the planting and the harvest. What were the warrior bands against that? Outnumbered and out-manoveured, that's what they were.

The Tale of the Hero's Friend
As their eyes met, Paul remembered that before fame and wives, they had been friends - working class scutters haunting Merseyside streets with dreams. A teenage John winked at a teenage Paul through adult eyes; and the walls came tumbling down.

This Year's Lesson
Sitting on the massive bench, swinging my legs, at midnight on the Sunday night, covered in my blanket and sheltered from the rain by the Gin Genie's brolly; while the Gin Genie sat beside me, with the whiskey being passed back and forth.

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