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My friends raved about the view from my study. Tristram said, 'How lucky you are! I could look at it forever.' He often returned to the window to watch the changes that mark the progress of each day: the gradual greening of the grass, light moving over the fields, a larger flock of crows.

We had no intention of going away that summer. Carrie had come to stay with me for a couple of weeks before we started at separate universities in the autumn.

'Tell me who it is' 'What difference will it make?' 'After six years I'm entitled to know who you're leaving me for.' 'Ok. It's someone I grew up with . . . from the village. It's Marcus Harding.'

To Pavlo the steppe was a sea of undulating grass, the stems and seed heads rustling against each other in the rising breeze. In the distance the mountains shimmered in the afternoon heat.

Several days had passed since the incident and the villagers were still coming to terms with the fact that their young people would have to lie low for a while. Mike's two teenage daughters were caught up in it and he informed them that they would be grounded for the next month.

The Birdcage was one of the surprisingly large number of establishments listed in directories of the most haunted pubs of England. It acquired its name during the Napoleonic Wars, when it was a jail for captured French soldiers.

15th February Morning: I have been looking forward to being here so much and now it hardly seems real. The view from my bedroom window is of fields and sheep and a hill that is almost a mountain.

The scent of lilac wafted across the garden. Melissa raised her head and watched as the zephyr lifted the skirts of the columbines and ruffled the blowsy peonies. The murmur of the bees did its best to lull her back into lethargy, but it was time to rouse herself: she had been lying in the sun too long.

The phone call had been taken by Sandy, the office clerk, who had a habit of jotting down almost everything the caller said. This was useful for Michelle, who as Planning Enforcement Officer was required to make an entry in the planning file before she went out to investigate.

I made quite an exhibition of myself. I'm usually so shy I fade into the background, take my place at the end of the queue, stand in the corner of the room watching what other people do.

Selena lived on the other side of town, several miles away from Karl's house. Karl had not seen her for some days, and, however many times he rang, she was not answering her phone. Since his driving ban came into force he had been unable to take her out into the countryside and to pubs on the trips that had formed much of their romantic life.

The 'Wetland Watch' had been widely advertised, so Jack was surprised when only four people came. He had spent the morning sweeping out the hide before going on his rounds and couldn't help but feel a small stab of disappointment at the low turn-out.

School and first went into the business, my grandfather, who had retired by then, told me about how chimney sweeps are regarded as good luck, and maybe more than that to some of the female customers, but he said that I should always treat everyone with respect.

I first came across the boy in the supermarket; he was eating an apple from the pile. I said 'You are supposed to pay for that,' and then realised what a killjoy that made me.

The wind-whipped grass rippled in the field. Spring had come early, the sunshine and showers producing a tall, healthy crop. Tomorrow, all this luscious ripeness was to be mown and gathered, stored and fed over the coming year to the captive cows in their perpetually lit sheds. It would be the first cut of the season.

The message is hand written on a scrap of paper stuffed in an envelope. It reads: 'Are you blind to the truth?' I study the shaky capitals, attempting to winkle out some clue about the sender, then I stow it in the filing drawer with the others. The messages are delivered when I'm out. They lie on the doormat waiting for me in their cheap manila envelopes, the flap tucked in rather than stuck down.

Rosalie Parker runs the independent UK publishing house Tartarus Press with R. B. Russell. Her previous collections include The Old Knowledge (Swan River Press 2010) and Damage (PS Publishing 2016). "In the Garden" was selected for Best New Horror 21 (2010), and "Random Flight" for Best British Horror 2015. Rosalie lives in Coverdale, North Yorkshire, the magnificent landscape of which inspires and sometimes provides the settings for her writing. Breath of LIFE: After wandering around the car boot sale in the rain for half the morning, Tilda was ready to buy almost anything.

Rosalie Parker runs the independent UK publishing house Tartarus Press with R. B. Russell. Her previous collections include The Old Knowledge (Swan River Press 2010) and Damage (PS Publishing 2016). "In the Garden" was selected for Best New Horror 21 (2010), and "Random Flight" for Best British Horror 2015. Rosalie lives in Coverdale, North Yorkshire, the magnificent landscape of which inspires and sometimes provides the settings for her writing. DEAR JOHN: There are times when something affects you deeply and alters the way you look at the world.

Ghosts, shamans, aliens, angels and the weirdness of life all make their appearance in this new collection of Rosalie Parker's strange tales. Her stories depict subtly shifting realities, and celebrate the fluidity of the barrier between the uncanny and the everyday. These twenty-five stories vary from contes to longer pieces, and explore the traditions of the weird tale in fresh and original ways. Contents: "Challenging Behaviour" / "Change" / "Chimera" / "Cow City" / "Dead Letters" / "Dear John" / "Fever" / "Heavenly Love" / "Him We Adore" / "Holy Innocent" / "Joy Riding".