by Robert Clay

I looked down at the small cold silvery ball of plutonium. The cold is an illusion of course, deep down inside that metal ball is the sort of heat that can power a city, or burn one. MANmade element? Well, women have more sense. They would prefer to make an omelette than this shiny little key that opens the gateway to hell, and I’m inclined to agree with them. Not as much fun though.


Robert Clay, author of Too Late for Sorrow, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.