I saw it— on the road from Reeth to Arkengarthdale: an old petrol pump, abandoned by time, leaning like a tired priest who’d forgotten...

He didn’t leave Leeds for a fresh start. He left because staying meant fear. The flat was chaos — tinfoil graveyard, door kicked in,...

The Gospel of the Wild Messiah He did not come robed in safety. He did not come crowned in gold. He came with dust on his sandals, blood...

From Glastonbury a scream broke through— 'death, death to the IDF'— words, not nice, should have been silenced, but words. Should the...

He spoke each night on the radio. Crackling across kitchens and darkened barrios, his voice walked through walls, lingered among the...

East of Eden: The Last Sermon I. Bedside – Gospel She sat by his bedside— hospice light low, steady, the quiet sliced only by distant...

Sometimes, not all the time, he doubts. The phone lights up— war in Iran, slaughter in Gaza, climate breakdown racing like a car with no...

Once, he worshipped an angry God— the kind who answered before you even asked. A system, disguised as certainty. Grudem on the shelf,...

Makros v. Jesus of Nazareth Gerasene District Court Case No. LK 0826-39 Filed: 22nd June, 33 AD Makros son of Philetos filed his...

We meet in the back room of the synagogue. Not the main hall, too clean. Too many eyes. Here it’s dim, fold-out chairs in a circle, figs...

He’d seen things no soul should ever see, heard things that still rattle in his dreams— not just bombs in Belfast, but shrapnel lodged...

She sat at the back. Near the radiator. That’s where she always sat— if she came at all. Scarf wrapped tight around her wrist where last...

Ed used to crouch outside Morrisons— not always asking, just hoping someone, tipsy from a night out, might drop a fiver and not ask why....

The Quiet and the Messy Revival They say there is a quiet revival — soft as breath on stained glass, a hush that Spotify, TikTok, and...

‘We all are born into the world looking for someone looking for us, and that we remain in this mode of searching for the rest of our...

It was raining. Sideways rain. Hard, mean, Leeds rain. The kind that says: You’re not welcome anywhere. She stood outside, soaked,...

She doesn’t talk about it much. Not the room, not the silence, not the way her body still remembers what her mind wrapped in thick fog....

It’s January 2014 — cold enough to chew through bone. We meet in the place named for the one who slew the dragon, but the beasts still...

She came in swearing— trackies on, a tinnie downed, tired eyes. A friend from the pavement, roll-ups in her pocket, playfulness in her...

She was alone. Not just lonely— but alone. Mid-fifties, no calls, no candles, just silence and the ache of being forgotten. Her world:...