Author S. K. Nicholas

My memory of that time is somewhat hazy. Like everything else, it’s faded with the passing of the intervening years, and yet if I close my eyes and focus, I can vividly see her sat across the table from me with such a look of mischief about her. As soon as she’d finished that plate Read more

In the corner of a long and narrow room, we sat warming ourselves by the heat of a radiator with our fingers linked across a two-seater table. The sound of the falling rain could still be heard over the chatter of those sitting nearby drinking their cups of piping-hot coffee. After a minute or so Read more

In the doorway of the greasy spoon she’s chosen, we shake our heads spraying rainwater like dogs escaping their monthly baths. From her handbag, she removes a pile of paper tissues with which she uses to wipe her face and neck. When she’s finished, she scrunches them into a ball before squeezing out some of Read more

The rain poured as if the belly of heaven had been slit wide open. She was shivering, and yet from foot to foot she hopped, grinning like a soggy cat who should’ve known better. Ten minutes earlier we’d been strangers, and now here we were with me cradling her face as the darkening skies made Read more

As we walked through the flooded streets of town, I felt as if we should be speaking, and yet there I was not wanting to say a word in case it might break the magic that seemed to be growing between us. Turning my head against the blustery wind, I found she was tugging on Read more

The first time I met X was a rainy day in the centre of town. A Thursday. The day I was born. Stepping out of work and taking shelter beneath a tree trying to roll a cigarette, I looked up and saw her on the opposite side of the street struggling with an umbrella. The Read more

In some store as it pisses down with rain, you wander over to the magazines and flip through the pages of one showing all the latest movies on at the cinema. We could go see a flick later I guess. For now, though, I’m searching for something that has no name. In the morning after Read more

Should receive the proof copy of the third and final volume of A Journal for Damned Lovers this weekend. The prose contained within is taken from a thirteen month period, which has then been edited for a further seven.  By the end of the last draft, I truly felt as though I’d created something that Read more