Mick Hanson

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryThe Three Halves of Martyn Manning--Chapter Four: Big Little Man TheShyAssassin27 years 4 months ago
StoryDawn Mick Hanson013 years 1 week ago
StoryDarkest Yorkshire Chapter Two Mick Hanson113 years 1 week ago
StoryDancing with a Tiger Mick Hanson113 years 1 week ago
StoryCorned Beef Sandwiches. Mick Hanson213 years 1 week ago
StoryChurchill's War. Mick Hanson113 years 1 week ago
StoryAmen! Mick Hanson313 years 1 week ago
Forum topicTime is on My Side Mick Hanson213 years 1 week ago
Forum topicIMAGE UPLOAD Mick Hanson213 years 1 week ago
Forum topicgrowing up Mick Hanson113 years 1 week ago
Forum topicThe Robot Mick Hanson313 years 1 week ago
Forum topicRE: WHAT'S LONG AND HARD Mick Hanson1713 years 1 week ago
Forum topicRE: Twenty Flight Rock Mick Hanson313 years 1 week ago
Forum topicRE: All Quiet on the Western Road Mick Hanson013 years 1 week ago
CollectionI'll Never Forget what's his name! Mick Hanson013 years 1 week ago
CollectionJohn Lennon ( who he?) Mick Hanson113 years 1 week ago
CollectionWoodroyd "College of Knowledge." Mick Hanson113 years 1 week ago
Collectioni am a curious yellow. Mick Hanson213 years 1 week ago
StoryWhere Tha's Muck Tha's Brass! Mick Hanson013 years 1 month ago
StoryWest of the Nile. Mick Hanson013 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Weight of the City Mick Hanson013 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Burning Bed! Mick Hanson013 years 1 month ago
StorySpeakers Corner 10am Mick Hanson013 years 1 month ago
StoryNow is The Window of our Discontent Mick Hanson113 years 1 month ago
StoryDustbowl Blues! Mick Hanson113 years 1 month ago

My stories

Cherry

Darkest Yorkshire Chapter Two

The Moors looked despondent and menacing, banks of darkness encompassing the town like a malevolent archangel.

Dawn

The whistles are terrible at dawn. They summon the start of yet another day of slaughter. Often I lay among the broken sandbags in the bottom of the trench just simply aching with fatigue.
Cherry

The Weight of the City

He knew the river as one does finally a friend; knew it when it was black, guarding at night time all the lights of London in its depths, and seeming in its vast silence...
Cherry

Dancing with a Tiger

It was a Sunday morning, wet and cheerless. Along the street the merriment of the church bell of ‘The Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary’ ding donged its way to 5am.
Cherry

The Black Caiman

Sure enough when he went to the oven, there on a low light was his favourite, tripe and onions.

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