Cherrypicked stories
Plans For The Future (Why Not?)
"What do you plan for the future?" The question startled me. I look over to Jasper, hair shining in the last of the sunlight.
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- 1 comment
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- 714 reads
No Place Like Home
"I still get Munchkin flashbacks, y'know?" A writer tries to cover the ultimate reunion story.
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- 8 comments
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- 3529 reads
January 12th
This shadow, multiplying mother after mother, is where my daughter labours in her own time her face a pale distance from mine. She rocks, gripping my hand tight so the rings hurt,
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- 860 reads
Whiskey Sour
Drunken teens, love inexpressible, a .38 Smith, and a late night flight from the police. What more could you ask for?
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- 905 reads
Clayton
About an old chicken coop that occupies a place in my backyard. It's almost like a member of the family at this point.
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- 879 reads
Chapter Fourteen:
Chapter Fourteen:
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- 2 comments
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- 1069 reads
Huts84
The very last huts. boo-hoo
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- 21 comments
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- 10385 reads
Thursday Sonnet: About Milkshakes
Let’s sum it up; I’m in a break-room, work Begins again in twenty, in which time I barely find the space (or wits) to rhyme, And I am asked to conjure from the murk
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- 1161 reads
What I didn't want
What I didn't want to say to you is that to me, love is like when all the 5,000 pieces of you scatter and land like paving slabs. What I didnt want to say to you, is that to me
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- 677 reads
Unrequited
The night you left...
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- 24 comments
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- 7057 reads
Take the next road on your left (2)
It was not an unhandsome face I recalled, even though I’d only seen it for a moment and that appearance was rather two dimensional being flattened against my windscreen.
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- 862 reads
On Wandering Lonely As A Clod
I'm sure it's just a matter of taste... perhaps I don't have any. :-)
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- 7 comments
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- 3644 reads
The Traveller.
The departure lounge at Toronto's Pearson International airport was extremely crowded.Fog had delayed many flights and hundreds of passengers had been left stranded.The weather,however,had lifted
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- 4 comments
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- 1219 reads
"Prince of Desire" (I.P.)
(edit) “The lights go out and I die. Tomorrow I will be reborn. Tomorrow I will dance again.” (Rudolf Nureyev – March, 1938 - January, 1993)
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- 15 comments
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- 4858 reads
Projection 2 - Metamorphosen
fall from the yellow to the glow below and hit on hard casing, legs flailing, and think to hang
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- 817 reads
'DOWN AND UP'
I've been 'down and out' 'moneyed and up,' sort of 'down and weird' and 'weirdly up' Today, I was 'down and up' which is in some ways worse than up and up except that's oft dishonest
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- 3 comments
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- 1413 reads
Eunectes Murinus
Sometimes, we all become animals.
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- 3 comments
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- 1502 reads
Cash Cow
God, I was stupid. I don’t know how I got into it and I know it’s easy to blame things on people but you know what boyfriends are like. One thing leads to another and then you’re hooked.
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- 1 comment
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- 1226 reads
The Whispering Wall - SAMPLE
The first time Lucile heard the crying it was the dead of a summer’s afternoon. That quiet time when people sleep in foreign lands.
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- 5 comments
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- 3027 reads
the emperor has no clothes
serious bullshit.
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- 5 comments
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- 3551 reads
The Moon and Back
Edit (22/3/2010) Thought I’d experiment. Take a stab at the moon; hoped you wouldn’t mind.
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- 17 comments
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- 4977 reads
Stuck!
Many years ago, when I was a child, I was involved in a tragic accident. I can just about remember the police helicopter landing in the field behind our house, but the rest is a blur.
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- 9 comments
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- 2671 reads
Spirit On The Slab
A terrible night out he wished had been a night in.
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- 2 comments
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- 884 reads
Love on the Picadilly Line take 3
Third perspective on the same story - only really makes sense if you've read the first two takes...
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- 3 comments
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- 1254 reads
Watching bees
A tale of realisation
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- 4 comments
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- 1838 reads
Formerly Known As...
IPOW try to guess who, before you look at the link...
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- 1 comment
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- 671 reads
Ten snapshots of the past reviewed whilst drowning
a motley collection of 10 random memories written in different styles.
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- 8 comments
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- 2898 reads
this silicon stone age
I'd like to write about happy things like Southern Oregon hills rolling and green, like bizarre Thai instruments that with wondrous melody sing, or peaceful, pretty hippie girls
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- 1 comment
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- 747 reads
birth
doom and gloom (as always)
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- 9 comments
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- 4605 reads
The Little Green Room
The Little Green Room. San Quentin Prison, California, 10am, November 8 1957.
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- 2 comments
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- 1062 reads
Girl with Cello
She, who came in from the wind and drifting snow.
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- 14 comments
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- 4187 reads
Street Phantom
I just couldn't identify with what was happening to him - just another one lost.
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- 2 comments
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- 1307 reads
Bird in the Sky
A fictional account of real events in the Chagos Islands. For further info look at Chagos | UK Chagos Support Association Title taken from - “Diego was my bird in the sky that was taken from me.” (Charlesia Alexis, in ‘Stealing A Nation’ by John Pilger)
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- 18 comments
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- 16302 reads
Huts81
up the hill to the Halls.
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- 5 comments
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- 1698 reads
Chapter One from a Good Pot of Red Sauce
Chapter one: Good Pot of Red Sauce
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- 5 comments
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- 2040 reads
The cat's Whiskers
Mark was used to geting what-ever he wanted. What he didn't bank on was Jane's love of cats stopping him from getting this woman into bed.
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- 4 comments
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- 1727 reads
Where Were You When...
this is more or less where I was... although it was two different ones.
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- 2 comments
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- 1657 reads
'Do you suffer from depression?'
‘Do you suffer from depression?’ she asked. ‘Well..,’ I began, but there was more.
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- 3 comments
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- 1373 reads
After Party
There's a party... after the party? A pointless embellishment upon another Invite Screams Nonsense After... party? What an odd phrase I hear myself say, deep in the confines of
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- 1068 reads
I've Got No Time And So Much To Say
It rained the day you left. Late, I woke running. I ran the three miles to the station, feet legs arms automatic, left right swing, though your bike-tracks were frozen in the lane,
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- 1051 reads
"Once In A Blue Moon" I.P
Mandolin She always felt left out as a child So she grew up a bit wild! to get her anger out! she started in her bare feet treading and stamping As she learnt when young
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- 24 comments
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- 5057 reads
MWD
You think enquiries are about the truth? - look within
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- 552 reads
I cannot think of a good title for this.
Please bear in mind that I was very drunk during the events I am about to describe.
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- 6 comments
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- 1792 reads
Lightninghead
the ramblings and recollections of a reformed madman
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- 2 comments
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- 1239 reads
Castle In The Clouds, Chapters 23 & 24
Chapter Twenty Three
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- 999 reads
Captive
So much light and colour - and the promise of spring. And it feels now as if nothing in this life will be as perfect as this moment ...
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- 23 comments
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- 7588 reads
Morning in Jemez
Long time, no post. I was overwhelmed by my thesis. Thanks for reading.
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- 2 comments
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- 993 reads
King for a Day
I think you'll work it out Image is PD from Wikipedia Commons
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- 1 comment
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- 1342 reads
Ballooning Safari
Children discuss the present and their future . . .
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- 934 reads
Too late to talk to Benny
It was everybody’s local -if you were local-an old man’s pub, that had been slapped about a bit, with paint, tarted up, to look younger.
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- 4 comments
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- 2594 reads
Blue Bell Learns to Fly
Blue Bell Takes off on a new adventure.
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- 1333 reads
Blue Bell & the One Armed Bandit
There's a sinister new arrival in the woods - who could it be?
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- 1 comment
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- 1187 reads
Well Suited
It's not like throwing away memories...it just feels that way.
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- 13 comments
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- 3112 reads
Daffodils
We lived in a cul-de-sac. A modern 1960s-built sort of square dead-end. Our house was embedded within the square or rectangle of houses which sat around a central patch of grass.
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- 4 comments
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- 1670 reads
Summerwine
(at the Alhambra Bar and Grill)
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- 2 comments
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- 1919 reads
The Deepest Cut
The long grass whipped her sun-browned calves as she fled out of the orchard, through the meadow, across the brook, over the railway embankment and into the dark green grounds of home.
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- 4 comments
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- 2862 reads
Thrift
In retrospect, the sweater was a poor choice.
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- 1 comment
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- 1013 reads
On the Bright Thread of Time
On the bright thread of time I am nobody’s child On the bright thread of time I am not your mother But some kind of kindred spirit With the power of a larger body
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- 1457 reads