Cherrypicked stories
Artichokes
In the morning she woke, body a sun-baked stone only her lips alive. Light streamed through the window touching her body, dissolving its’ white dust to gold
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- 1769 reads
Take the next road on your left (1)
“Take the next road on your left and follow it for three hundred yards” she said.
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- 1 comment
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- 1090 reads
Land Girl
“A beautiful world,” Joyce murmured, “but going on too long.” Every branch on every tree had a neat layer of snow and the sun shone from a hard, blue sky.
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- 890 reads
The Elaborate Case of the Nose-Picking Killing Machine
Gerry had just retired when his wife, Hilda, died of a night-time stroke. They’d been married for forty-one years.
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- 1615 reads
Chandelier
Many years ago, I found myself working on a building project in London. I was a young apprentice back then: Silly as a box of frogs and selfish with it.
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- 2 comments
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- 900 reads
Bossman & The Mimi
This is a long 'short' I've been working on for a while. It utilises northern Australian Aboriginal folklore and I'd be very interested in reader's opinions.
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- 12 comments
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- 4243 reads
The horseman - part 6
There comes a time of running away and perhaps that's when our ghosts press in hardest. (No particular need to have read parts 1-5)
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- 7 comments
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- 2387 reads
Barnabas and Bread
A thoroughly unexpected crisis arose when Father Barnabas walked into the bakery one clear dawn and transubstantiated the entire day's batch of bread.
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- 555 reads
Blood Money
Where does he get them? Crisp One hundred dollar bill - yet all with the same serial number but they are not forgeries - tested and retested to be genuine. So, where does he get them . . .
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- 4 comments
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- 3015 reads
The Child
I expertly recall the moment when time erupted forth a son
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- 2 comments
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- 1410 reads
Where Does the Moon Go to Sleep.
Rachael, a very young racoon has perplexing question on her mind.
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- 1833 reads
Rearview Mirror
REARVIEW MIRROR
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- 1 comment
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- 638 reads
Call centre blues
If you have nothing better to do, does that mean you are doing your best already? Let's hope not.
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- 2 comments
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- 896 reads
When I Was Young (Not-quite literal translation of 'Quand J'étais Jeune')
When I was young I wore all my selves Like ballgowns- Soft cotton naivety, glittering green mystery, Every facet a stitch Of the years, the beautiful influencing words.
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- 1 comment
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- 1163 reads
Still It Burns
a short poem about..,
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- 6 comments
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- 1311 reads
The Fast Lane
Sometimes, but not very often, adversity brings out the best in us.
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- 2 comments
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- 1671 reads
Trompe L'Oeil
When I saw him, the night before, he looked his usual size.
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- 10 comments
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- 3688 reads
A Living Room
The room where sunlight streamed and made me squint In 'Fifty-Four - the curtains not yet up - Grey Marley tiles, and fireplace mottled brown, Chairs, sideboard, table - all Utility -
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- 5 comments
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- 1754 reads
The Good Life
You know it's a good life when the bar bell rings time pitch perfect into the orange fug as you drown your last cup with Ferod's young daughter oh, sweet blackish night
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- 3 comments
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- 1563 reads
Myth of Narcissus
...I grow impatient for spring.
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- 21 comments
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- 5485 reads
Sunday Sonnet: To the girl who smiled
Here in these streets of judges and police Where we unlace the textiles of our days, I used to search you in the tales from Greece Which speak across the eons, phrase by phrase,
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- 2 comments
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- 1078 reads
Saturday Sonnet: To the Nephew
I seldom write of death. I’m still too young; My pen has yet to spell of lives dispelled, And when I walked my way, the hand I held Was not the shadow I’ll hold down the long
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- 1 comment
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- 890 reads
Crisis of Faith
Life has a funny way of catching up with you, for better or for worse. A nun who survived Auschwitz confronts her demons and lives happily ever after.
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- 1 comment
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- 710 reads
No Accounting for Taste
Disqualified entry for AlibiTV competition (UK Residents Only!) The first sentence was obligatory. Thought I'd post it here instead. Altogether now, "Patrick McGinty, an Irishman of note.."
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- 6 comments
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- 3105 reads
A Dream Life
A micro about dreams Words: 390
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- 9 comments
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- 1799 reads
And Iggy Sells Insurance
The title says it all...
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- 3 comments
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- 983 reads
Windsong
they have such beautiful names...
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- 4 comments
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- 1032 reads
the christian girl
I have been having coffee with a Christian girl.
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- 2 comments
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- 1458 reads
The Deal
I can’t see the clock, but I’ve been here long enough to get to know their time keeping, so I know that it’s about time for them to make their appearance.
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- 2 comments
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- 867 reads
The Best Plasterer in the World
The best plasterer in the world lived in Wigan. It’s fact.
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- 8 comments
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- 7995 reads
Not identical
An idea from Kheldar is to blame for this one,:~D
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- 7 comments
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- 2690 reads
Adam (aged 8)
Befuddled head at breakfast still scoring winning goals, the day changes colour like the grazes on his knees. School clock winding him up. Classroom window a broken tv
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- 1 comment
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- 1046 reads
Just another domestic
names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved.........
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- 4 comments
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- 1179 reads
January 30th, 1649
She dips her kerchief into a pool of still-warm blood. It is the holy blood of the king and it will stain her cotton lace. Giddy at the sight of it she pushes through the wailing crowd,
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- 4 comments
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- 1816 reads
On Speaking German
A Stückchen of almost-lunchtime poetry!
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- 1 comment
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- 1184 reads
The Night is worth the Stars & the Stars are worth the Night.
I understand, you might fear the darkness whenever you go out at night, but in your longest scarf and your long, black coat, you might almost feel invisible and safe.
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- 7 comments
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- 1933 reads
THE THING
This is a poem about "The Thing," the thing which hides in great poems till you put the page under a microscope, and it flies away on devil wings and turns into a bat under the full moon,
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- 1 comment
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- 784 reads
The Mathematics Of Cupboard Space
The accurate placement of the raspberry jam is vital if you wish to fully understand the complexities of modern mathematical theory.
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- 1 comment
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- 1397 reads
Coming to Terms
And how I would show you the snowdrops...
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- 13 comments
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- 3813 reads
Sensitive Skin 2
‘Hello,’ said Alice. She decided to stay put on the sofa, working hard on her relaxed air.
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- 2 comments
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- 1116 reads
Boo hoo boy
nonsense in the nicest way!
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- 4 comments
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- 2565 reads
Where is Spring?
I'm so tired of this wretched winter...
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- 5 comments
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- 2065 reads
Naivety (I.P.)
INSPIRATION POINT 26.02.2010
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- 4 comments
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- 2202 reads
the shower room
the fulcrum of the story
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- 2 comments
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- 1959 reads
The Age of Consent
It seemed Anton Smith was a model citizen but he just wanted to improve himself and having tried all the legal means he decides to resort to the illegal.
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- 1 comment
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- 1237 reads
Doohickeys and Doodahs
...or whatchumacallits.
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- 4 comments
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- 2210 reads
Huts76
casual sex. Only for the young.
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- 1 comment
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- 1763 reads
Just Press Click
It’s the taste of him she can’t ignore.
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- 900 reads
Hidden Vegetables
If I spoke in riddles in daily life I'd never get anything done. I suppose Jesus was like that with his parables. Luckily I save my nonsensical ramblings for poems like this.
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- 507 reads
Medical conditions
Back behind the camera
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- 7 comments
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- 3805 reads
The horseman - part 4
Death passes through and leaves the rest of us to clean up the mess. (incidentally, no particular need to have read parts 1-3)
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- 7 comments
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- 2485 reads
These things took
"Always with the look of the moon deflated in luminescence – as if it had been told that street-lights were the new swinging thing by which lovers lay heads and dreamt."
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- 2 comments
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- 452 reads
Sunspots: Chapter One - Silence
This was my shining moment, I felt as though I were a long-lived star exploding into a supernova. It was beautiful.
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- 1 comment
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- 744 reads
Huts75
still stringing them along
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- 3 comments
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- 1282 reads
Sensitive Skin
The question is – what’s inside?
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- 4 comments
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- 1728 reads