MJG
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My stories
A Slip of the Mother Tongue
Dialect of my mother - burbled from rain-sodden currents in Derry’s Foyle, meltwater brogue of bogs, fairies and goblins, smoky with bacon, whiskey...
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- 2931 reads
Goodbye George
‘Goodbye lovely Boy’, John strokes the horse’s neck; breathes him in. ‘We tried everything’, he ruffles his wide hand over the black mane. Asks his...
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No Good News
Grey dawn with builder’s tea and buttered toast my computer eyes the dark world for sewer stories that stick like burrs. The woman who axes her...
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Summer's end
Rain hammers on windows before the hurricane. I fling open the wardrobe where summer still hangs; scented with perfume and sunscreen, translucent...
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- 961 reads
Toad Spring 2018
The soil suddenly breathed as I forked a pale Hellebore into sodden earth. Almost riven through a spoon-backed, squat toad. Warty: blotched green-...
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- 1711 reads