TaleSmith

It was raining in Lancaster on September 3rd 1555, and Jane Ask loved the earthy smell that it coaxed out of the soil. She wiped away the sheen of rainwater from her forehead with the back of her hand and set her small basket of nettles down by the front door. Later she would dry out the leaves and reduce them to a powder; the substance worked wonders on small wounds which refused to stop bleeding. Jane had always been something of an herbalist. Growing up with only a father, and two older brothers from his first marriage, she had spent the majority of her childhood outdoors. Now practically a spinster at the age of twenty-two, she knew the

So some dame walks through my door, and I start to do the whole 'of all of the offices in all of New York' thing - because I'm a private eye, and that's how we do things - but then I recognize her: Miss B J Broad, dynamite on legs and owing me a favor or two after the fiasco with her late husband. Only the last time I saw her she wasn't carrying a tommy gun. So she's saying "Larry, darling." as she points this thing at me, and her voice is soft, tender, beautiful. Then it's all fireworks - nothing but noise and flashes of light - and I find myself looking down at my own bullet riddled corpse, tongue hanging out like a sweating dog. Miss Broad