michscor

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
Story47˚ East 18˚ South Insertponceyfre...1210 years 6 months ago
StoryDaffodils michscor411 years 11 months ago
StoryApple Pie Mum michscor011 years 11 months ago
StoryA Yule-Tide Spirit michscor211 years 11 months ago
StoryA Gilded Run michscor511 years 11 months ago
CollectionStories michscor011 years 11 months ago
StoryDolls' Packing michscor012 years 1 month ago
StoryLike Gold to Ayery Thinnesse Beate... michscor314 years 7 months ago
StoryLittle People Oldwarrior214 years 7 months ago
StorySix Catholics and an Atheist barryj1414 years 7 months ago
StoryChristina The Christmas Fairy HOMER05214 years 7 months ago
StoryThe Reticent Storyteller barryj1614 years 7 months ago
StoryTwenty Red Roses lk214 years 7 months ago
StoryNodding With Cherries michscor714 years 8 months ago
StoryNo More Heroes well-wisher914 years 8 months ago
StoryOysters for Supper michscor714 years 8 months ago
StoryA Great Victorian Engineer And Inventor hadley214 years 8 months ago
StoryWhilst reading Ernest Hemingway... michscor515 years 3 months ago
StoryCoal Bags celticman1015 years 3 months ago
StoryTHE LOVER Anonymous115 years 4 months ago
StoryThe cat's Whiskers screenstories415 years 4 months ago
StoryPassing Mother's Day michscor215 years 4 months ago
StoryThe Deepest Cut lwilkinson415 years 4 months ago
StoryTrompe L'Oeil Margharita1015 years 4 months ago

My collections

My stories

Apple Pie Mum

Clare struck the heavy painted knocker and regretted the mute black and white plastic bell which unfailingly irked her; it sullied the door and besmirched its two-up two-down Victorian heritage.

Like Gold to Ayery Thinnesse Beate...

Is it possible that the aura and spirit and very essence of a person are somehow revealed in death?

A Yule-Tide Spirit

It was just as Clare was receiving her cheese sandwich from the waitress that two women approached their table; they carried numerous bags and hard weary faces and trailed an unmistakeable aura of pov
Cherry

Nodding With Cherries

Marjorie Wallace, thirty-nine-year-old librarian, enjoyed a certain fillip to her weekly walk to the writers’ circle.
Cherry

Oysters for Supper

It all started with the wearing of my blue velvet rather than my green muslin.

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