I roam the hills of the Scottish Highlands in search of new stories. Using my experiences as an environmental scientist, conservationist and teacher, I write science fiction and fantasy, and about my lifelong struggle with mental illness.

Below you will find posts relating to my poetry, stories and adventures, experiences with mental illness, and thoughts relating to humankind's destruction of Earth's biosphere.  I hope you enjoy the content and subscribe to also receive news of charitable donations, free short stories and discounted books.
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A warrior battles hydra

The Blood Plague liquefies eyes

Ecoterrorists struggle against ecological ruin
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From the pitch Abyss, Chaos corrupts our dreams
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Chapter 1
Lost Hope


​O Fates declare
I, Krarg the conqueror, will spare
Mortals in return for an immortal sold
A bride dressed in liquid gold
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 Krarg’s eyelids flutter as a song echoes throughout his kingdom of obsidian and lava. The bard’s tale summons within the ancient dragon memories of his past mayhem on the Mortal Plane: cooked warriors scattered between shredded catapults and ballistae; impregnable castles razed, their surrounding villages burned, and livestock consumed; famine, disease and the wails of refugees; an elven maiden sacrificed to appease.

​A collection of fantasy, science fiction and other short stories that grow darker as winter approaches.

Feel the joy's of spring as you read fairy tales to your children.
Follow the exploits of brave heroes in action-packed summer adventures.
Explore the autumn stories as shadows encroach.
Delve into winter tales as you would a ghostly barrow.​

 New stories added each equinox and spring,
free for purchasers to read online or download.
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Read Latest Story

Image by Johann Bret Bautista

​Mandy stares at the toxic sky. Nearby, a boy picks his way through robot, android and cyborg junk. As she lies naked and half-buried in the undulating ocean of alloys and plastic and human bones, where cheap but expensive to recycle machines and people are sent, she remains silent, motionless, expressionless. Perhaps the child will find something else of value before reaching her, and scavenge it instead?

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​Did demons create the delusions?

Did delusions create the demons?
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​Chapter 1
March 1990
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I make my choice: time to kill. Staring at the broken glass I know I will cut, know I will kill. Something within laughs. I laugh. And the jagged glass stares back.

Concrete steps lead up and down. Broken glass lies scattered. An iron handrail rings from the impact of the wine bottle I broke against it. Everything is clear, so clear now. I know what will be done.
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I bound up the steps and bang through a door to a dimly lit corridor. Doors to a communal shower and toilet blur past. Once in my room, I lock and latch the door behind me. Nobody is getting in.

Dear friends and readers


First, hope all is well in your lives.

Second, I come in search of reviews for all my books and can offer any or all in kindle format to those who follow Night Owl Stories.  If you would like a free kindle copy in exchange for a review on Amazon of any of the following titles, please email me at the address below.  

Kindest regards

​Nick Crutchley



The Moment Between Two Thoughts
A dystopian science fantasy novel
Read Excerpt

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Deadweight
An autobiographical novel about Borderline Personality Disorder
Read Excerpt


Equinox & Solstice 
Science fiction and fantasy short story anthology
Read Excerpt
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​Please email a request for any of the above titles in kindle format in return for a review. Please state if you shop on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk  (US & UK only).  Thank you.

Image by Christain Supik

​Feeling stressed, Marilyn texts a friend for help. The friend does not respond, and their failure to respond triggers feelings of abandonment. Once again, Marilyn knows deep in her heart that no one can be trusted. For two days the emotions rage and she attempts to ease the storm by slashing her shins, which she hides from the public eye by wearing trousers. And even after her friend texts to say they had their purse stolen, with phone, credit cards and car keys, Marilyn cannot return to baseline. Paranoia sets in. Her friend is obviously lying.

Image by Bernd Volkmarsen

​White sepulchre, sinners absurd
and infidel, Old Horny’s herd
shoot up, monotheistic meth
animism devolved, Heqet’s death