It never was a dark and stormy night—not quite. But whatever the weather, Corey’s stories always began with it. A grey and misty morning, or a hot and cloudless noon? You knew straight away which led to ghostly visitations or a gunfight.
For two of Corey’s novels, set in Scotland, the nicht had not only been braw, but also bricht and moonlicht; and once he had even begun a story at brillig, but without the slithy toves.
But then, one black and tempestuous evening, Corey’s stories ended with the weather too. Lightning struck his computer, and they perished forever.
Fiona M. Jones has a short attention span and writes very short things.