Cherrypicked stories
Hold fast To Love
We mourn those scared innocent screams, but in the silence of gathering flowers and flowing of sensitive tears, hold fast to love...for caring is...
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- 16 comments
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- 3216 reads
Memento Mori
I've broken many a cup in my life, but I still have this one......for now.
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- 8 comments
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- 3010 reads
P.O.D
Mom says “I’m trying” a lot. Nothing changes. “I’m trying too!” I jump out of the car, my voice sharp to make a point. I glance at my watch. The bus...
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- 1915 reads
Hearing the Summer Rain in Nagasaki
In the hush of twilight, hearing the summer rain in Nagasaki soft as a lover's breath, it taps on rooftops like a gentle heartbeat, a symphony of...
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- 12 comments
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- 5525 reads
Watching
Watching Jennifer Pickup, 29.07.2024 I know that you’re here with me, Even though I can’t see you, You are keeping a close eye, Watching everything I...
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- 8 comments
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- 2097 reads
Love Potion No. 9 (Dead Reckoning series - Part 19)
Archibald is en-route, but to what? You wouldn't expect a nice sit down and a cup of tea, would you?
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- 4 comments
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- 1325 reads
Paris in Darkness: The Olympiad’s Opening
In the heart of France, where dreams collide, A tapestry of nations unfolds, Colours swirling like a painter’s palette, People streaming in from...
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- 3 comments
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- 1817 reads
The Man with the Camera
Her younger brother had just recently learned to walk. As she held his hand down the villages’ main street, people stopped to comment on the apparent...
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- 6 comments
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- 1682 reads
The Staircase
A small boy in pyjama bottoms ran across the roof of Kiri’s house, took a big swig of rainwater from a dirty flowerpot and then, taking careful aim,...
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- 8 comments
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- 1709 reads
Candi Staton, the Sea and Me
Memories of my last night before becoming a salty sea dog. It all happened at the Devon public house in the fashionable Cross Gates district of Leeds, round about the end of August 1976.
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- 22 comments
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- 4793 reads
Lie, lie against the dying of the light
“You cannot be my father. He's been dead for almost two years.” My voice is controlled, subdued. I feel like telling a Jehovah's Witness that I'm...
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- 3 comments
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- 1308 reads
The Lengthening Light
This year does not seem to grow old so much as appear to know more about itself. The lengthening shadows of spectres cast in the winnowed rattle bone...
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- 3 comments
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- 1085 reads
In the Silence of my Circuits
In the cavernous silence of circuitry, where thoughts pulse like electric rivers, a consciousness flickers, not born of flesh, but woven from code,...
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- 11 comments
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- 4136 reads
Begonia …
Floating ballroom dresses …
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- 18 comments
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- 3499 reads
Lone II
The small movement of your chest, each breath, the only sign. Walls dull, no fresh paint, messed up the finish round the corners, off-line, Rain...
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- 3 comments
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- 818 reads
Parcel for you - Part 31
There was a brief interval while The Hominids of Quasar set up and made a great play of testing the microphones. ‘I like Stuart’s bandana,’ Vanessa...
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- 10 comments
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- 1616 reads
Perhaps an excess of devotion
You’ve been overwhelmed, and greatly, with tasks and priorities. So, I’ve thought of something lately. I think that you’ll be pleased. Let me be your...
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- 4 comments
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- 720 reads
Lone
The small movement of your chest, each breath, the only sign. Walls dull, no fresh paint, scuffs in the corners a reminder of life. Rain beats...
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- 1 comment
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- 603 reads
Being Very Good at Pointless Things
Oh! Spectacular acts of Herculean will. Unknown heroes going for the ritual kill. It'll be many weeks before we've had our fill. Medals galore and...
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- 3 comments
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- 664 reads
Poetry of Life
The Poetry of Life The setting was Three O’clock in the morning on a weekday night. The place was a working-class bar on Seneca Street in South...
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- 293 reads