MistakenMagic

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryGutle Schnaper's Topographic Memory Bank Kilb50913 years 10 months ago
StoryABC for Zoologists Silver Spun Sand2313 years 10 months ago
StoryUnexpected Intrusions of Beauty MistakenMagic3113 years 10 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 24 rjnewlyn713 years 10 months ago
StoryLullaby Beeme2013 years 10 months ago
StorySeasons Change skinner_jennifer3313 years 10 months ago
StoryNola Darling maggyvaneijk2913 years 10 months ago
StoryIvy Rose Silver Spun Sand1413 years 10 months ago
StoryJeanie is a Secretary nicola61213 years 11 months ago
Forum topicDesert Island Books (Apologies to Roy Plumley) w.w.j.abercrombie613 years 11 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 23 rjnewlyn1313 years 11 months ago
StoryYear of the Rabbit Silver Spun Sand1213 years 11 months ago
StoryLonerism at an underground dance festival maggyvaneijk1913 years 11 months ago
StoryIf only shoe1313 years 11 months ago
StoryThe Dereliction - MaggieG213 years 11 months ago
Storymaking dinner shoe413 years 11 months ago
StoryRoom Eight's the Geordie Silver Spun Sand1613 years 11 months ago
StoryRunning Beeme913 years 11 months ago
StoryOf Ghost Shrimps and Things (IP) Silver Spun Sand1513 years 11 months ago
StoryWish bone for change Beeme713 years 11 months ago
Forum topicIs Correct Grammar and Punctuation Important? TheShyAssassin3013 years 11 months ago
StoryOn Believing the Unbelievable...(IP) Silver Spun Sand2613 years 11 months ago
StoryShaking Beeme413 years 11 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 22 rjnewlyn813 years 11 months ago
StoryHieronymus Bosch's American Landscape barryj11213 years 11 months ago

My stories

Demands

You ask for the moon. I trek down into the indigo sky-mine, pickaxe in hand. Hack away at the blue rock, until I find a lump of ore - glowing like a pupil-less eye - lost its stare.

The Cuckoo's Nest

I behaved myself for months and was allowed some acrylics and canvas. After I painted over the security camera, tried to hang myself with my bed sheets.

We Rowed

Never the proud, protective lover; I was too fragile to break. We rowed, so I clawed at your face like a rake, slicing you to smother and smooth my ache.
Cherry

Body Language

My fingers making spirals on your upturned palm - your spine, a shivering river, wading between the valley of your shoulder blades. My hand, floating downstream.
Cherry

Tuesday's Child

My dear sweet, little sister; an annoyance sent by angry storks. Oh, how with floppy tongues they flock. She is a nymph and I, Medusa. If only they would love me the way they love her.

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