Cherrypicked stories
Going to get me
Celia Boydell is a girl who thinks that Hershey’s Kiss chocolates are the turds of glam rock squirrels she keeps a fistfull in her pocket and hangs out in parks.
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- 943 reads
Protest
I am staging a bed-in. It has been 4 hours and The press haven't arrived yet But I have told Clair And she says it all sounds Deeply political. My props: a Sandy Denny album
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- 670 reads
Men of Bees
Men of Bees From Bethnal Green down to the Boleyn they buzz around, bit of business here, bit of business there …
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- 1753 reads
Breakfast
The trailer door always makes me cringe when it opens late at night It creaks with guilt, it screams with caution and slowly closes with a sigh
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- 405 reads
All About Me and You
All About Me and You I’m the kind of person who would have gone to a public witch burning to find out what kind of kindling was hip,
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- 727 reads
Old Roses
Old Roses Old roses underplanted with lavender banked purple petticoats solid as old money and a well trained chorus a Jacobean courtyard of mellow stone seems to be theatrically painted
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- 1377 reads
Leeds Station
The 'Garment Doctor' fails to spark a smile and my spleen tantrums in sloe berry explosions, popping as each departure is called. A sign for 'Emotional Engineering' is not meant for me,
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- 679 reads
chapter thirteen: memory lane
It had been three months and we still hadn’t exchanged any form of communication, as per the anti social behaviour order. Three months. Ok, so I had reduced the obsessive compulsive stuff.
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- 597 reads
Heatwave
Claire had only known Petri for three months before he moved into her small top floor flat. Friends attributed her impulsiveness to the heat. It was the hottest summer in living memory.
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- 518 reads
The Note
The note is held, there, in the centre of the still room. It seems even breathing stopped. As though that one note holds all living pulses within its own bounds.
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- 2195 reads
He hoped to keep the mortar sturdy
He hoped to keep the mortar sturdy The surveyor was sleeping; eyes mansard, mouth gabled, snores monopitch. He dreamt he built a house on a cliff-face
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- 1194 reads
Future Dating
Karen pulls up opposite, chopsticks clicking as though making a scarf from her udon noodles; our three minutes pass in excruciating knit one purl one chit chat.
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- 1181 reads
The Miracle Worker
...it was said that his prayers had been answered; for a blind man had regained his sight and an old woman who could hardly walk had been seen running and skipping through the town...
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- 972 reads
Knocked Sideways
Second of two stories written for the Machine Of Death anthology.
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- 4110 reads
Causality
First of two stories written for the Machine Of Death anthology
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- 1830 reads
Brief Encounter
She slid into the corner of my eye
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- 935 reads
It is not ok
It is not ok to only Eat omelettes because You would like to be New as an egg. It is not ok to make Your tobacco pouch into A mouth and use it for All future heart to hearts.
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- 1017 reads
Lucy in the toilets
They don't know the Name of her first born Yet bandy references To perforated rips. Talking lines between History and sociology. Who is on the left. How gay a gay punk Can be.
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- 810 reads
Countdown to Paulie Pod, A Poem
To my daughter
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- 840 reads