Sam peered out his kitchen window. It looked cold; painfully cold. He watched as the belting wind terrorized the pedestrians below; everyday they fought the same battle. Winter refused to die an honourable death this year, and its icy claws continued to harass its victims. He shook his head in objection, standing defiant in his …

(Working title) God’s grammar by Mick Mooney Introduction: He woke up from a deep sleep; a strange sleep. The wind was bellowing outside. He was confused. Did God really just speak to him? Did God really just correct him? He was sure it was God, after all, who else could it have been? But it …