Bob Rogers

A short story from the forthcoming book - '21 Islands' EVERY GOOD BOY DESERVES FAVOUR Let’s begin at the end.      Among the smouldering damp ashes, beneath the buckled iron frame, lay a cracked glass eye. It was a very good, upmarket glass eye, affirmed by the fact that no-one, while its owner was alive, ever suspected it of being any less real than its partner. Even after all it had been through, when wiped clean it still conveyed alertness and vitality.      The fireman who pocketed it for later japes couldn’t help but marvel at the craftsmanship. The iris, predominantly bleu-de-France, was streaked here and there with sparing rivulets of shamrock while the pupil appeared half open. Even the sclera seemed to have tiny blood vessels, implying a connectivity to the host.      There was little else of the eye’s owner left in its original form. The room, once populated by geriatric furniture, a lifetim...