Mick Hanson

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryFireworks in the Snow Silver Spun Sand3514 years 2 months ago
StorySomeone deadly beneath (part1) Zokaya215 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Black Caiman Mick Hanson316 years 4 months ago
StoryEat bees span617 years 3 weeks ago
StoryIs a Half of Hedgehog better than No Hedgehog at All? Mick Hanson417 years 2 months ago
StoryNot One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich Mick Hanson817 years 2 months ago
StoryThe Catholic Priest Father George. Mick Hanson217 years 11 months ago
StoryThe Land of a Thousand Arseholes! Mick Hanson617 years 11 months ago
StoryThe tale of the Satanic Croissant! PowisNewton117 years 11 months ago
StoryBrighton Beach 1.00am jennifer917 years 11 months ago
Storyplease take me with you someplace better than this culturehero317 years 11 months ago
Forum topicABCtales evening. sabital1117 years 11 months ago
StoryThe End of Imagination CheleCooke518 years 1 day ago
StoryThe Night Before THECUNNINGFOX718 years 3 weeks ago
StoryDog Day Afternoon Mick Hanson318 years 3 weeks ago
Forum topicWaiting for a reply antoinette118 years 1 month ago
StoryWhich Andrew? Sooz006418 years 1 month ago
StoryGently Giant Rebekah618 years 1 month ago
StoryTwo men in a car, it was an old escort or something. George Terry118 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Last Rites of Horace Tees maudsy318 years 1 month ago
CollectionA Sparkle The Chosen One118 years 1 month ago
StoryAN ODE TO BELLA Mitzi Leahy318 years 2 months ago

My stories

Cherry

Speakers Corner 10am

I left the doss house after breakfast that morning and went along Oxford Street to harvest my dog ends.

Corned Beef Sandwiches.

I wrote to the Duke to ask for my mother’s wish to be buried near her parents. His reply was the curtest possible refusal. Standing by the tiny grave in the hideous suburban cemetery...

West of the Nile.

The wind bending trees and flattening the grass, brings startling images. Pitches me not into memory, but fact. Bad dreams. Adrenaline rushes. I keep telling myself it is not happening...

Dog Day Afternoon

Desolation gripped Scott. Not the despondency of Knightsbridge or the King’s Road. Not the feelings invoked by slatternly whores who sidled up to him at ‘hooray’ parties...

Not One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

I thought of ME 110's and bomber moons over London lighting the Thames and fires burning, and death raining down from the roaring heavens...how the children cried. A cold sweat soaked my inner cloths.

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