Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryHolding On To Nothing jolono2913 years 8 months ago
StoryStorm Gifts (Giving gifts to bring cheer in hard times) well-wisher113 years 8 months ago
StoryToday a Lady Richard L. Prov...413 years 8 months ago
StoryYou’re not middle aged yet you think? Mark Heathcote213 years 8 months ago
StorySunday papers Mark Heathcote213 years 9 months ago
StoryFrom a story in todays i paper grandaddy313 years 10 months ago
StoryINKY INDIGO moonphish813 years 10 months ago
StoryGirl at the Piano Silver Spun Sand2913 years 10 months ago
StorySkin and a Wart lilyallenfan813 years 10 months ago
StoryTo Me, My Family Is... lilyallenfan813 years 10 months ago
StoryPayback Time 1 jolono3313 years 10 months ago
StoryBaguettes at Dawn (I.P.) Silver Spun Sand1113 years 10 months ago
StoryTwo Bridges jasperhatsoff413 years 10 months ago
StoryUgh! a slug! Rhiannonw613 years 10 months ago
Storyendless is nothing notimetosleep613 years 10 months ago
StoryTiming is Everything Richard L. Prov...513 years 10 months ago
StoryMowing adam313 years 10 months ago
StoryEquine Dream The Walrus613 years 10 months ago
StoryJakes Revenge ( Part 10) jolono1313 years 10 months ago
Storyunnamed aislinn22h213 years 10 months ago
StoryPeople Are Stupid aislinn22h313 years 10 months ago
StoryImmorality? aislinn22h313 years 10 months ago
StoryWhispers in a Forest Natalia613 years 11 months ago
StoryGingerbread men… Mark Heathcote213 years 11 months ago
StoryGypsy ghost SpazzyDee613 years 11 months ago

My stories

Misplaced ego!

I am a writer; if I sell a word or not And if you people are my readers Then I must be, hot to trot…? I’ll make - paper out of these cedars. And, lay waist to a rainforest.

Crying for her first emperor…

Her tears mingle wearing his crossed-collar Blue silk blouse in bed And, when there dried, she’s interned in clay. With her terracotta army, With her terracotta, stalwart, horse.

A Medusa's calling…

As its translucent body rings-out Under an unheard, jet propulsion… Question; does it cast shadows? Does its prey know of an answer? To this rhythmic, Medusa's calling…

Fewer nicks’ no, grey upholstery

I saw a Volvo for sale for £300 today Outside a swanky refit McDonald’s All blue and chrome, without a home Square as an old 70s coffee table… A thought ran by me, it’s in good nick

Our vases were filled with wine

Our vases were filled with wine As our childhoods spun on a dime But it wasn’t the abstinence of tears That made us, into granite rocks. It wasn’t Mount Vesuvius…

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