The sun rises to find some of his realm gone. Would a southern wind help him melt the clouds? Gales rush from contentious latitudes. But collapse off shore of battle fatigue. With dying winds, clouds regroup,. Bounce and settle down again, hiding all. Momentum carries them westward to pile up thicker still. This world vanishes quietly in downy silver. No squeals of delight or trills of larks;. No plops of rainfall,.

Random thoughts and images, some serious, some humorous, some pointless. I love you like a strawberry. I love you more than lime. You can be sweet you can be sour. But you are always mine. I love you more than cola drinks. As much as Irn Bru. Sometimes you fizz right up my nose. But I always love you. I love you like Aix-en-Provence. Your hair is wild as the Mistral.

Where nothing is quite what it seems. CE Ayr is a pioneer of a new genre of short story writing. This is an emerging style aimed at the fast-moving time-restricted 21st Century reader. The descriptive text is pared to the bone, events move at lightning speed. The intelligent reader visualises an entire scenario in glorious Technicolour. The tales are short, sparse and to the point, many of them less than one page in length.