Pick of the day

The appointment

Might it happen?

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Story of the week


It’s my birthday today.
I’m eight years old.
My name is Poppy Rogers.
I was born at twenty past nine in the morning on November the 11th. Mum says if I’d waited a little longer we’d have scored a hat-trick. I think that’s a funny thing to say.  
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Poem of the week


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Yellow is the loveliest colour,

All radiance

And sunlight

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Poetry Monthly


Poetry Monthly – November

Hello all,

Well, autumn is truly on us!  But that’s a good opportunity to snuggle up or take brisk walks (or both) in order to get your creativity buzzing.

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Story and Poem of the Week and Inspiration Point

Posted by Philip Sidney on Fri, 17 Nov 2017

Two sad but thoughtful pieces for picks of the week.

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Bee's Journey

Picks of the Month

The Blue Books Restored: Fragments 1A to 70 (part 4 of 4)

 Diane cast her spell, like casting a boulder in a pool of Reality and causing it to ripple. The force of her will made manifest.

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Liam Anders

He got up before dawn.  Each day.  Crawled out of bed to the stinging sound of an alarm going off beside his bed.  Woke himself with stabbing cold water.  Shook the day into himself, picked up his bag while a house, a street, slept around him, and slunk out the door.

Liam Anders.  We were about ten or eleven, I think, when I first learnt his name.

“The mother’s his sister,” one of Mum’s friends confided.

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