Bed by David Whitehouse


David Whitehouse

This tale of a man who refuses to leave his bed, recounted by his unfortunate brother, is told in eloquent prose. It buzzes with knife blades of evocative imagery shredding the reader’s nerves by peppering the text with poignancy and pain.

I saw it on her face that day, a look like her heart would float upwards through her throat, topple from her mouth, clip her front teeth on the way out and drift into the sky. It wasn't love, nor lust, she was too young. But it was something, a seed of a seed that would become something one day.
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