He sought a private place and when he found it he sat down, cross legged, next to a small wild patch of grass.  He had been there a little while, with the muffled sound of the party drifting overhead, when a gentle voice interrupted his privacy. -  ‘What are you up to?’, said the woman behind him. It was his friends wife. She was a little older than the boy, quietly beautiful, with kind eyes.

It was dark and the work party was dragging slowly to an end. He saw her out the back of the shop smoking on the steps alone.  It suited her.

The weather threatened rain; really threatened.  The air was hot and muggy, and although the sun was up and shining, the grey storm clouds were moving at some pace across the sky.  It was as if you could feel the electricity in the atmosphere. It showed. Everyone was edgy.

The fairy's face was delicate, and although she was unable to cry, her eyes were raw.  Kneeling by the dead girl, she turned her white face upon a gothic looking boy who stood at the back of the crowd behind a counter.  His face was young, and he had long, lank black hair. - ‘You could do this’, she said quietly, almost pleading.

At six minutes to one in the morning there was a heavy thud from inside the the wardrobe and a door swung open.  Gabriel opened his eyes just in time to see the wardrobe door shut itself again.

From across the room we exchanged friendly smiles, but she made a pretty good show that she couldn’t care less.  In the end, I left her to her own company. She had deep accusing eyes and a bright smile. It was a hard thing to look at.  

The people that used to be known as angels are far and few between nowadays. Those I have met have been far from angelic.

Standing there, as bold as brass, was a witch as tall as the door - taller even - and she did not looked pleased. Indeed, her expression was remarkably disagreeable.

The dead guy had lived at number fifteen, and when I got there I found that someone had beat me to it.  The door to the apartment was ajar and I heard someone inside making a mess of things. I took out my piece and moved through the front door as quietly as I could. If whoever was in the apartment had a gun, a wrong move could easily turn burglary into homicide - with me as the body.

For all his logical reasoning, he was walking towards his ruin with his eyes wide open and his brain unscrewed.  It was the human condition: finding happiness and destruction in the same woman.