Ken Simm
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My stories
The loss of an ill fated romantic in a life mechanical.
Her times and history had long gone. Her voices in the high places were lost in the winds and flurries of storms.
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- 970 reads
A Soft Caress of Welcome and the Scent of Old High Places.
These were her words. These were the notes musical that tried to convince me of the strangely impossible.
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- 1598 reads
The reality of bent nostalgia and good drunks
When he hit, boy laughed. Small fearful, feral laugh. Who knows why? But he did and boy knew when.
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- 2824 reads
Morning Wished, Drawn and Coloured in. A Pastorale.
As it was, is and in all that's wanted. As it is, for all its disappointments.
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- 907 reads
She thinks of missing once he has gone home. Waiting for the Dream of Gerontius.
Little things irritate, like they always do and larger things send her screaming for a room with the door always closed.
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- 957 reads