Cherrypicked stories
You Will
Sleep tight through biting bruising rainbow rosed tattooed tears dawn curtains reveal long ago wishes seedlings on glazed dew will sparkle you to love
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- 1633 reads
Midnight is the time before six hours of winter
Midnight is the time before six hours of winter It is not the clock greenly sighing itself through the minutes or the refusal of the light to...
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- 915 reads
Face 1
&;#8230;&;#8230;..&;#8230;&;#8230;&;#8230;.......... d o n o t&;#8230;&;#8230;&;#8230;&;#8230;.. &;#8230;...
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- 717 reads
Burning the bodies
From my window, south facing In a heated room with a table I saw the summer Slowly strangled, by twisted Cruel fingers of the autumn I could have...
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- 1016 reads
Enigma Variation
The truth behind the Mona Lisa's smile
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- 706 reads
Perfume for Men
Saturday with the paper.
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- 688 reads
K- Anti-Masochistic
Help on the way
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- 868 reads
Of Peasoup and Piracy: (Butlers Wharf Winter 1962)
I have an investment here over the knots of a century it's bound around the fraying years on a cleat of memory so loosen time and pull boys flex the...
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- 1779 reads
A The Drive: Tale of a Man Chapters 1&;2
The man, a true eccentric, road trips to find the only thing he loves other than himself: Maria.
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- 685 reads
Reacting Badly to Criticism
"And," sighed my manager, "you react badly to criticism." He pushed his soft body back against his padded chair. His sticky fingers settled into a...
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- 1010 reads
Saint Paul's from Ludgate Hill
Dawn ebbs, half-light recedes, and only the faintest trace of night lingers in the cold side alleys that reach from the yawning street.
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- 1950 reads
Disquieting Lights
Old wounds heal....
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- 864 reads
Dad's Addiction
A father struggles with sobriety.
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- 905 reads
Alone
A terrified character realises the horror of solitude
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- 873 reads
A Village in France ,'44
personal memory
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- 571 reads
In a different class
A story of football... and jealousy
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- 1063 reads
Zeinab's cafe
the world revolves around the cafe on the corner
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- 1395 reads
Beholder's Eye
It could happen to anyone.
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- 771 reads
Fugitive
Can the Fugitive escape..&;#063;
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- 794 reads
The brave
She says to her husband (who's too busy with the papers): "Well, at least they don't need to worry about birth control."
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- 1280 reads
Embers of Obligation
An intense relationship's last throes
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- 844 reads
Rain again
rain again the road winds round the battered elm, in reverence a slip shod slapping bag of effluence ambles across the sand stones clatter
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- 896 reads
Keep breathing
"Keep breathing." I always forget that. Everything weighs heavy, like the crooked grocer on the black market fiddle, a finger on the scales of my life;
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- 963 reads
I thought I saw you
I thought I saw you last night, Walking briskly through Paddington Station. I thought I saw you, Your hair brushed by an unknown breeze, A secret...
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- 942 reads
Untitled fragment 2 - a poetic evolution
Original ----------------- dry stagnant fragments of burnt summer dragged through saline warmth and nurtured steam intoxicated segments of fire,...
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- 960 reads
Dark Game
( Dark Game: a story from the musalchemist chronicles. An Off-shoot from Vinyl Magic and Immortality. It's not necessary to read Vinyl Magic or...
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- 1075 reads
Trying to Find the Good in It
egypt...
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- 1371 reads
Memories of London
Memories of prologues and cities
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- 3786 reads
A - Chapter One
It all starts here...
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- 2892 reads
Early Flowers
Early Flowers Clare chatted inanely to the girl in the next seat, as strangers do when forced together. She told her that she was flying over to see...
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- 610 reads
Just play that tune
Whoever holds my life strings Up there, miles high Or down there, deep in fire Flutter your fingers As though playing some great piano Touch the...
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- 975 reads
You, an Aphex dream
Waiting for sleep while listening to Aphex Twin
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- 1377 reads
Kumbh Mela
When 30 million people get together to bathe at the confluence of three rivers (one of which is imaginary) one knows that it is going to be a pretty...
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- 1212 reads
AGONQUINESQUE
Written after talking to algonquin people in Manawaki Quebec Canada
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- 1195 reads
Gnocchi
A story from the Italian East End of Edinburgh
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- 837 reads
Meadow
I still see the birches shudder from its past, The buttercups cupping the tears of the weeping skies, Oak trees in their scenic silence As they shy...
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- 692 reads