Pick of the day

Angel 48 (new beginnings)

The Caribbean nurse came to see Angel and her twins before she left the ward.  Church and Sarah stood by the door waiting to escort her back to prison.

‘Your babies are doing exceedingly well and are exceedingly beautiful,’ the nurse gave Adam and Lisa one last hug before returning then to the cradle, which was also a carry cot.

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Story of the week

The Paperweight (Part 1)

(This is a chapter taken from a novel, but I think it makes sense as a standalone piece too.)
Miss Harris was halfway through explaining the concept of enjambement when the door opened and Mr Roper walked in.
Everything came to a halt, for Mr Roper entering a classroom was akin to a king entering a court.
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Poem of the week

Squirrel Quarrel, North Hackney

A pair of squirrels quarrel

in the elms above the garden.

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Disoccidented by Alfie Shoyger: A Review

I've been asked to share this review Alfie Shoyger received for his first colle

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We have had to suspend the automatic joining facility for a while so if you would like to join us please email admin@abctales.com with your desired username and we will set up an account for you. It's all free!

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Many thanks to Alfie Shoyger for March's slightly delayed Poetry Monthly:

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Our Story and Poem for the month of February very kindly chosen by Jolono:


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I Dreamt I Wrote Another Me by Alex Smith (london_calling79). Out Now!

The latest release by Cerasus Press - ' I Dreamt I Wrote Another Me' by Alex Smith has just been published.


You can order your copy here:


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Bee's Journey

Picks of the Month

La Femme d'argent

How could I forget the autumn of 1998, and that weekend in Paris?  A sullen, funereal mist folded around the city for the entire three days, fallen gold-and-brown leaves sticking to the soles of our shoes as we walked along the Quai de la Megisserie, gently mocking the efforts of the street artists lining the pavement. We climbed the Eiffel Tower, only to see nothing but a blanket of spectral grey from the top.

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the more people run away

the less there is to escape to


the more  beauty we buy

the less room we have for truth


we fuel our vehicles with tomorrows

trying to find somewhere like yesterday






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