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Crazy Diamond
If only my parents could see me now: a pint of lager, a packet of ten Sovereign, the Pokemon-stickered guitar, the old NYC baseball cap still glued...
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- 1905 reads
Black Beauty
Black Beauty Cherish I still my childhood thrill when a tale I tell when a poem I spell then the applause despite the flaws. much of it I owe to the...
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- 2 comments
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- 800 reads
A Runaway Writer
. A Runaway Writer By Paul McCann I’m becoming invisible , watch me disappear , I can drift off into a world of my own where there’s nothing to fear...
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- 4 comments
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- 891 reads
Recycling. Upcycling. Part Three..
My name is Mrs Red Capped-Robin and my neighbour is called Mrs Jones. She’s a lovely Bird, small and not like me who like to have the latest fad, and...
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- 1020 reads
Recycling. Upcycling. Part Two.
I stood back to look at my handiwork, it was good but there was something missing. As I pondered what it was, something below caught my eye. It was a...
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- 878 reads
Hetha in the kirk
The Gore tex rustle fades, the hikers leave and I have the place to myself Me and the tattered shards of the Christ god The thick walls holding back...
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- 591 reads
hello goodbye
hello goodbye I saw her from the window of my signal-stalled train stranded beside the bay she wore a soft green hat a bright red scarf dungarees she...
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- 3 comments
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- 589 reads
Dead Sand: Part 2-Buzzard Creek: Section 1
Hello, everyone! Here's the second part to Dead Sand. It's got to be divided a bit differntly, due to word restriction here on ABCtales. But anyway,...
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- 297 reads
Chewing TheFat
Food, that stuff that keeps us going. In one end and out the other; I can’t live without it. Some don’t have enough, Others fly the whole world for...
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- 556 reads
I Choose Jesus
Some enjoy wanton behaviour of theft and living in a “me” world where there are no rules no one to have to listen to no bosses and no parents to...
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- 3 comments
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- 1027 reads
chatting with Saoirse
as winter yields and April fades to May the lengthening days stir cannabis hazed and Tullamore Dew coloured memories of that summer we shared on...
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- 307 reads
Recycling. Upcycling.
When my husband Paul took our dog Masie for her walk yesterday, as he brushed the hairs off her, a tiny species of bird he didn’t recognized, came...
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- 4 comments
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- 1146 reads
an unknown middle-aged woman
passing my cafe window unhurried, in modest dress, she is beautiful, yes, still beautiful, and unaware that behind the misty glass she is quietly...
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- 4 comments
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- 1345 reads
Work Lunchbreak Flash, Alfresco at The Colonial Cafe
A lunchbreak with my work friend wrote this teeny flash.
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- 6 comments
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- 1751 reads
Hungry For Cornwall
Sweet memories of 1960s, taste of strawberries topped with nuts and Cornish ice-cream, tracing teenage years those passages of time, mouth watering...
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- 18 comments
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- 3927 reads
Disenchantment 4
I made my way back to where I had been earlier, feeling the stone I had set down, while exploring forward slowly and softly with my feet. I lifted my...
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- 3 comments
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- 932 reads
Disenchantment 3
I had walked directly into the drainage wash, fallen over the lip, and rolled down to the bottom into a muddy, stagnant puddle of water, still...
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- 3 comments
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- 871 reads
Disenchantment 2
“Stop it!” she yelled, “I want to listen to Christmas songs!” Perry was visibly upset by the fact that I had tried to find a different radio station...
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- 3 comments
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- 864 reads
Living On The Street
. Living On The Street By Paul McCann Staring down into the coffee inside a paper cup , somebody heard what I was thinking , so I just shut up . I...
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- 4 comments
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- 729 reads