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Manifest
Between the wolf and girl is a hummingbird encased in red feathers, it claws at itself, shredding its feathers into its nest. Crying out as though it is caught in a nightmare.
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- 1737 reads
America at Last – Part 2
The flight was ok as long-haul flights go, and I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, but you can get too much of anything.
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- 6 comments
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- 3233 reads
Haunt
Harsh liquors stained the breath for when the silence was not appealing; The counter is unattractive in appearance and to tap its wooden build, it feels to crumble.
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- 1215 reads
ONE FOR THE BOOKS
here's the plot
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- 7 comments
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- 1611 reads
eyes of a child
the eyes of a child see what is happening & they know it’s not good--- they see the facial expressions of the loved ones round them, stressed out & angry, saddened & depressed,
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- 299 reads
the murder coming
those who have money, bubbling in the belly of the beast, make it their point to inform the rest of us, that if we haven’t started putting money away for our “retirement,”
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- 303 reads
for the white powder
all for the sake of white powder, s/he risks it all, daily, knowing that had s/he been born a few years earlier, that s/he’d have been luckier, that s/he’d have been able to
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- 396 reads
This room is filled with you
This room is filled with you: whose tender tremors are still felt within these jasmine scented sheets. Your heady scent is here.... Its not a dim remembered echo,
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- 1 comment
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- 469 reads
Caravantina or The Girl Who Never Grew Up
Once upon a time there were three little peasant girls named Moelle, Andrietta and Caravantina and they always used to steal apples and pears from the garden of an old woman who everyone said was a wi
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- 2 comments
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- 1500 reads
Circles
Finding the perfect woman - someone who will listen.
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- 371 reads
On the Cusp of My Seventh Decade - IP
On December 17, 2013, I will be sixty years of age. I find it hard to write autobiographical stories. So I don’t do it. And I won’t do it now. I’ll make something up.
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- 13 comments
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- 3700 reads
America at Last – Part 1
On 21 March 2011 my dad died after a steady decline that had acquired visual contact with the runway in late January. On 4 April we committed him to the flames.
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- 7 comments
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- 3799 reads
A SINGLETON ON LESBOS ISLAND - Part 2
Two hangovers before tea, and an encounter with Canoe Girl, that isn’t how my Mondays normally pan out...
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- 3 comments
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- 1027 reads
Welcome to the Twirlies Mr Cook ( I.P.)
Short and apt story for Mister cooks birthday...
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- 12 comments
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- 3793 reads
Clay
'cold and dead as winter clay'
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- 4 comments
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- 1524 reads
Dignity
A little consideration goes a long way.
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- 1 comment
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- 751 reads
Adequate
Crushed, as cochineal I bleed My colours before you.
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- 21 comments
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- 3972 reads
In the Halls of Durant High
I post this little Tribute to our classmates each year and today I was remembering the last day of school our senior year how we watched each other walk away fading into our own individual futures, so
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- 2 comments
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- 669 reads
A SINGLETON ON LESBOS ISLAND - Part 1
With no mates knocking about for a week’s holiday, which normally goes something like having a laugh, drinking beer, and chasing girls...
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- 2 comments
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- 906 reads
A Woman by Choice - Part 1
A young musician living in West Berlin learns that there is more to life than just the straight forward birds and the bees.
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- 4 comments
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- 1849 reads