Frankie Denton

If you go down to the woods today, you may find a stranger on a dark and winding path. I did once, when I ventured into the black pines. He stood like a shadow and when he moved, he was the shifting ebony of a dilated pupil. He was...

Frankie once again whisks us away to a fairytale world in his latest Christmas tale… In Winter, the call of the bells hound the Orphan Girl as she passes through the flurrying snow. In her rags she is a mere part of the landscape, a muddy blot gone unnoticed...

At the end of October-month skeletons dance on the graves of our mothers and fathers. They rise to the call of the night and bring out their buried fiddles to play a jig. Only Red Jack Robin, little Jack they call him who perches on the branches of the...

The morning was bright and pale yellow like fainting buttercups, casting a welcoming tint over his home. He lived in a country village, small and peaceful, but not quite isolated. The only sounds he heard were bird song, the tractors in the fields and the persistent, whirring motors of...

He was on a plane, in the sky, above the clouds. A girl was next to him, someone he barely knew, who had only ever been on the very edges of his vision. A closer friend was sat behind him. The interior of the plane was cool and quiet,...