Belgium, late May 1815 It had been a month since Thomas left the Farm, and the green peace of Spain now seemed like a hallucination—a dream conjured under silk sheets and candlelight. Here, in the churned mud of Belgium, there were no velvet walls, no warm hearths. Only smoke, sweat, and the thunder of boots against ruined roads. The Rifle Brigade had received him with mixed eyes—respect for the insignia on his shoulder,...

Bryan sank deeper into the sofa, his broad shoulders pressing into the cushions, eyes fixed on the glowing screen. The controller in his hands, headset tilted just right as he bantered with friends online. He was locked in, a quiet grin flickering every so often when a risky move paid off. The door to the living room eased open. Krystal appeared, hair still damp from her bath, dark reddish-purple strands catching the lamp...

The car ride to the airport had been quiet, polite smiles and travel chatter between Laura and her parents filling the space. Mark sat in the back, his hand resting beside Laura's on the seat. Occasionally, her pinky would graze his, or she'd shift just enough for her thigh to press against his, but her face never betrayed what her body was doing. He knew her well enough to recognize the signs: the bounce in her leg, the...

Mark had always enjoyed the outdoors, but this trip was different. When Laura, his partner of two years, invited him to spend a week camping with her Swedish family in the heart of Dalsland’s pine forests, he said yes without hesitation—though he didn’t fully grasp what he was agreeing to. The setting was idyllic. Tall, whispering trees surrounded a pristine lake. The scent of moss, birch, and pine hung in the air. The fa...

The air in the briefing room was thick with sweat, starch, and dread. Twelve of us stood in two neat lines, dressed in our best pressed uniforms, boots gleaming like lies, collars so tight they cut into our necks. Two military police officers stood against the back wall — arms crossed, expressions like statues carved out of judgment and cold coffee. Nobody spoke. I adjusted my beret slightly, more out of nerves than neces...

Most 18-year-olds mark their birthday with a family meal out, their first legal drink at a bar, or a night out with friends at a local club. Not me. No, I marked my 18th birthday with a six-mile fighting patrol in the Scottish Highlands, followed by a gruelling night of tactical manoeuvres to take control of and secure a village from an "enemy" force that refused to follow the script—this, to mark the halfway point of a 2...

The Miracle of South Nutfield I’ll never forget that summer. Not just because the weather was the kind we Brits dream of every winter, but because it was the summer that South Nutfield Cricket Club—yes, our little village team—went on a tear through the T20 championships and somehow, against every reasonable odd, booked themselves a spot in the final. At the Oval, no less. Thousands of spectators. National coverage. Prope...

"Fields of Fire" Father’s Day always brought a mix of sweetness and chaos—sticky pancakes, glitter-covered cards, and our sleepy kids giggling as they woke Bryan with “Happy Father’s Day!” and a lukewarm cup of coffee. I loved the mess of it all. By late afternoon, the sitter had arrived, and the house finally exhaled. Quiet. Still. Just the two of us. We were supposed to go to the pub. Dinner, a drink or two. Our usual e...

Evening fell over the farm in a golden hush. Candles flickered in their sconces along the hallways, casting warm light on the ancestral portraits that lined the walls. The scent of roasted duck with wild herbs drifted through the dining chamber, accompanied by the faintest touch of lavender and beeswax polish. The long mahogany table gleamed beneath silver candelabras, and crystal goblets caught the firelight like droplet...

Thomas woke to sunlight slipping through the tall shutters, warm against his bare skin. The sheets around him were twisted and damp with sweat, clinging to his body with the evidence of his pleasure like a memory. His limbs felt heavy, his glutes were sore, and the ache between them was a vivid reminder of the night before. But it was the emptiness of the room that struck him again. He sat up slowly, wincing slightly in d...

The house was a hive of activity, with staff busying themselves with the tasks at hand. Thomas awoke to the sound of voices outside his room—English, Spanish, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, even a bit of French being thrown about. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pivoted out of bed and made his way to the shutters. Throwing them open, he was taken aback to find that the sun was only just breaching the horizon, setting the...

The soft tread of footsteps, mingled with the distant songs of morning birds, stirred Thomas from deep sleep just as sunlight spilled into the room. Blinking against the brightness, he made out a blurred silhouette near the open balcony doors. As his vision cleared, the figure stepped forward, revealing herself in the golden light. “Good morning, señora,” he murmured, taking in the striking young woman before him. She wor...

The sun dipped low over the cobblestone streets of the small Spanish town, casting a golden hue over the whitewashed buildings. Thomas adjusted his rifle-green uniform, the fabric still stiff with the grime of battle, and stepped into the bustling square. The air was alive with the sounds of laughter, the strumming of guitars, and the clinking of glasses. After the bloody victory at Vitoria on the 21st of June, 1813, his...

The Letters That Bound Them The campfires flickered in the cold night, casting long shadows over the rows of tents where weary soldiers rested. Thomas sat on a tree stump, his uniform caked with mud and his hands calloused from gripping his musket. The Battle of Salamanca had been brutal, and the cries of the wounded still echoed in his mind. He stared at the letter in his hands, the paper worn from being folded and unfol...

The Stables of Desire It was 1811 on a warm, golden summer's evening. The sun dipped low over the rolling hills of the countryside, casting long shadows over the lush green pastures. The distant hum of crickets filled the air, blending with the soft sound of hooves striking the earth. In the quaint village of Holbrook, nestled between meadows and forests, the stables had always been a second home to Thomas. Thomas, a youn...