Portrait painting Stories

My father, the pastor, had become a pontificating parrot. Yeah, Dad, I’ve heard that biblical verse a hundred times before, ‘The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.’ Evils his parishioners could avoid by tithing ten per cent of their income to the church. Evils his daughter couldn’t avoid should she spend his hard-earned stipend on an education. Only me, too; don’t get me started on my brothers. They had the tes...

“I heard there was another killing two nights ago, a poor lass over in Spitalfields,” Margaret loudly announced from her kiosk across the gangway at the match factory. The ladies who worked there had just started their morning shift. “The Leather Apron?” A woman questioned from further down the line. Her loud words brought a cry from the overseeing works foreman on the gantry above: "Keep it down, ladies.” Talking while a...

It was one of those wild Spring days where the wind was blowing so hard it was raining sideways. Most people were hunkered safely at home, which made it the perfect day to run into town to pick up a few things we needed. There would be no traffic, no crowds. My husband Zach hated being dragged along on shopping trips, but he did it to make me happy. As empty nesters, I had been redecorating the house room by room, and occ...