MistakenMagic

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryI've got a lovely bunch of limericks ...here they are standing in a row! (I.P.) Denzella1312 years 10 months ago
StoryAghast The Walrus1312 years 10 months ago
StoryVirgin of Winter well-wisher412 years 10 months ago
StoryA Midsummer Night's Dream (I.P.) Silver Spun Sand1612 years 10 months ago
StoryThe boy who stands upon the hill Parson Thru1912 years 11 months ago
StoryBlown away. Highhat2812 years 11 months ago
StoryA picture of you. ScoZen2412 years 11 months ago
StoryNature of the Beast Silver Spun Sand1712 years 11 months ago
StoryThe Gift Beeme312 years 11 months ago
Storyearly sun over Hope Valley JupiterMoon612 years 11 months ago
StoryChristmas Dreams jolono3212 years 11 months ago
StoryPlaces to go Parson Thru812 years 11 months ago
StoryChapter Five: Matthew maggyvaneijk512 years 11 months ago
StoryLady M Silver Spun Sand1012 years 11 months ago
StoryHome Sweet Home iDrew612 years 11 months ago
StoryMerry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence Silver Spun Sand1012 years 11 months ago
StoryHey Joe... Silver Spun Sand1312 years 11 months ago
StoryIthaca MistakenMagic1413 years 1 week ago
StoryYou have to Laugh...Don't You? Silver Spun Sand1613 years 2 weeks ago
StoryMother Nature's Plan skinner_jennifer3813 years 2 weeks ago
StoryFate II shoe713 years 2 weeks ago
StoryHolding On To Nothing jolono2913 years 3 weeks ago
StorySpirit of Africa Parson Thru513 years 3 weeks ago
StoryThe great irony Parson Thru1413 years 3 weeks ago
StoryCherries Are Not the Only Fruit Silver Spun Sand1713 years 3 weeks ago

My stories

Gold cherry

Dali's Clock

I fear that I loved you so much I made you up. Wrapped in a towel, I look for evidence of your being here; your empty coffee mug on the table, a pound coin on the kitchen floor...
Cherry

Alors, On Danse

We are sitting at a table on the terrace, blowing smoke into our coffee, and throwing our heads back to laugh.

Bad Writing Prize (Inspiration Point)

It was a wet and windy night, though not necessarily in that order...

There Will Be No Other End of the World

And now, what is left after the end of the world? The dark smell of brown sugar in an empty kitchen, my cousins playing cricket in the park...
Poem of the week

Wind Chimes in North America

Prayers return to my lips like a reluctant lover. Now I talk to God the way one talks to a coma patient...

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