Stripy Knife

The Stripy KnifeA Short Storyby Untitled writerCasper Trescothik looked at the stripy knife in his hands and felt irritable. He walked over to the window and reflected on his grand surroundings. He had always loved magical Oxford with its boiling, bored beaches. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel irritable. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Heather Trescothik. Heather was a noble vicar with pretty spots and curvy eyes.