Adam Piggott

Gentleman adventurer

Short fiction – A choice of wine.

I have another short story up over at Terror House magazine. It in an autumn piece, my favorite time of the year.

A choice of wine.

“What shall we have?” Tommy said. He would be happy with a red or a white, perhaps even something sparkling. Probably more a red than a white; it was a red day. The streets were cold and grim. December had truly settled in with its cloak of darkness and dank humidity. The vinoteca was warm and friendly; there were raised voices and calls for different orders. The wood panelling reflected dimly in the yellow light of the late lunch hour. Yes, it was a day for red, perhaps one of the local drops; something from the Veneto.


100 years ago today, we were a nation.


The real difference between the right and the left.

1 Comment

  1. Post Alley Crackpot

    I shall be happy with a whisky, for bourbon makes me frisky
    But drinking red with white? Since ’68 it’s been risky
    Pour me something yellow with black, bring it in a glass
    Let it bring out the anarchist and the capitalist in me
    So I can forget the absurdity of our class

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