Assault On Kid Gloves

Hanging in the sky are Mum's many pairs of kid gloves, which a rabble of street children are fighting over.  

She is unfairly accused by the law and loses her licence temporarily. The moral to all potential jurors is the police sometimes lie in order to attain their required monthly record of convictions.

Mother Fist

I am woken by someone gently knocking at the door.  A woman in her late 50's enters with a one year old boy.  I climb out of bed and the child grasps my hands. Except this child is so deformed that his whole body is in the form of one big hand. And what a grip he has on me! He holds so tightly! I try to hide my revulsion. 

"You will have problems with that grip as he gets older," I say to the woman, "he is only One and already he is unmanageable."  Heavy medication will be the inevitable solution, I think to myself.

Smuggled Person Affected By Postal Strike

I am forced to send my lover, or a small girl, through the post. It is the only way to get her out of the country. We package her up in white paper and I watch as she is bundled into a post office sorting bag and hurled to the back of a lorry. We calculated that she should be ok for the estimated 3 days delivery time but I realise that with the postal strike there is the likelihood of delays. Can she survive long enough?

Snow In Summer

I am staying over in Tor's grand old English farm set in hilly terrain. The sun is shining and it is a beautiful summer's day. A school party of primary kids are descending the hill. We hear a big crash from the courtyard and go to investigate. The snow has melted and slid off the roof flooding the yard. Bulbous icicles hang from the trees. You'll have to go round the back, I tell them, its too dangerous here.