This that and all sorts ... maybe, if I actually write anything this year.
A deserted railway station late at night, was she in time to catch her train&;#063;
Midnight; New Years Eve; Alone.(This is not auto-bio just got to thinking about lonliness)
Second chapter of the novel about a little girl who overcomes after wirtnessing her Mother's brutal
Dedicated to Marian Mawson died (1st November 2001) My first and last attempt at a Villanelle!
A child is given a sinister black marble by a travelling gypsy, only as an adult does the marble ret
A look at progress and whether it is moving forward or heading back in time.
First couple of chapters of a new psychological/horror that I've been tossing round my mind for a fe
He only wanted to play with the other kids on the beach, why couldn't they see that&;#063;
I wish this piece had come across with more empathy for them, I felt sorry for them both ... but it didn't, and maybe that's the way it's meant to be.
My challenge piece, after waiting all day to find something to write about...
Sunlight rising, filtering dreams through the griddled mesh of dawn. Unspoiled country, unspoiled land, unspoiled dreams of love. Misty Budapest morning, misty-eyed Budapest girl.
In memory of my son's grandmother: A remarkable woman who was raised as an ex-pat in Celon.
Sal had a new client, a young man. Her workload was already stretched but she couldn’t turn this one down, he was going to be a challenge.
‘Come lay beside me my man,’ she said ‘Let me light a fire of love in your breast. ‘Come bathe in my moisture, you know that you can ‘let not your body lay flaccid in rest.’
How important do you feel When it occurs to you for the first time that your entire life is but a hyphen?
Memberwhen the sun shone fourteen hours a day Memberwhen the daisies grew waist high Memberwhen our time was a time Of gentle kisses and sweet reminisces Memberwhen we knew we were forever
That damned bell. ‘Yes Tom, what is it, love?’ ‘May I have a cup of tea please, nurse?’ Just give me a few minutes, love, and I’ll make one for everyone.’ That damned bell.
I looked through my window and watched as the little boy pulled himself up the hill. His gnarled and twisted legs, each with a manic, jester-like will of its own, pulling in the opposite