Pick of the day
Story of the week
The Anatomy of a Death
Posted by bhi on Wed, 13 Jan 2021
A young Indian woman dies at London’s Victoria Station. This story traces her death, the events which shaped and coloured her eventually leading her to that platform on that day. It tries to answer the questions: Who was she? Was she pushed? If yes, then by whom? Or did she commit suicide, and if so then why? Along the way it explores and questions the attitudes to women across the different levels of Punjabi society, and the pressure women, and...Read morePoem of the week
Peel Park. New Year’s Eve
Posted by ralph on Sat, 09 Jan 2021
By the lake the footprint snow
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Story and Poem of the Week and Inspiration Point
Two stunning picks for you today - big congratulations to mark_say for 'The Wet Afternoon of Ravilious' which is our Story of the Week, and to Kilb50 for his exceptionally moving 'To a Lone Sailor' which gets my pick for Poem of the Week:
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Story and Poem of the Month
Our Story and Poem for the month of December, very kindly chosen by Lavadis:
Poem of the month is:
MJG - The Goodbye - ever more moving each time I read it.
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Seven Nights at the Flamingo Hotel By Drew Gummerson.
Big congratulations to Drew Gummerson for the publication of Seven Nights at the Flamingo Hotel.
Available here:
https://www.beardedbadgerpublishing.com/
Review by Mark Burrow
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IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO JOIN ABCTALES.COM
We have had to suspend the automatic joining facility for a while so if you would like to join us please email claudine@abctales.com or jane@abctales.com with your desired username and...
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Picks of the Month
Because Of The Color (Short Story)
Posted by cliffordben502 on Mon, 28 Dec 2020
I am standing on the corner of Main and Second when I suddenly become self-conscious of my sweater.
Read moreThe Goodbye
Posted by MJG on Sat, 12 Dec 2020
No smile or words. Rigid, unyielding,
for that last photograph.
His arm, slack, around my shoulder. I turn from the shot.
Hide my tears, knowing he wants to be gone.
That final blurred image, shutting the car door.
I stumble through weeks of white-hot fury and freezing fear,
invent a radio-crackling theatre of desert and dazzling stars.
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