He watches you come into the world / Vowing to protect you against all harm
A tribute to all Dads on Father’s Day
One tree, one solitary life, / One silhouette reaching into the sky. / One lone and weary traveller, / One road, that passes them by.
Correct me when wrong. / And punish when bad he’d / Protect me from harm, / And when ill - / He’d wrap me in blankets, / And nurse by my side,...
My two hands just big enough to hold firm / the measuring cup, pouring into the bowl / two cups of sugar, one cup flour to stir, / I would h…
My Grandmother was one of the most beautiful people I have ever known and was so proud of her grandkids, repeatedly sharing her favorite stories of time spent with us. When my Mom was sick for a time and Grandma came to stay with us we spent time making sugar cookies, but I somehow got into my head that I was going to make snake cookies and that the floor was the best place to do that. Being the best Grandma ever she let me do it without scolding me for getting dough on the linoleum, and with fair warning from my Grandmother as to where they were created, my Dad still proudly ate the cookie I handed him when he came home. Funny, but it’s moments in my life like this that have given me an unshakable knowledge that I have been loved.
The big kids were smoking as they walked ahead of Peter down the sidewalk beside the Weston Plaza. They were in high school and wore uni…
I submitted this story to a peer for review awhile back and got the saddest response from them. “This is more appropriate as a children’s book than an adult short story.” This was not written for children, but through a child’s eyes. I hope that none of us ever forget what it was like to be eye level with the kitchen counter and to be brilliant and devious, repentant and loved by somebody bigger than us who could envelop us in one hug.
He was tired / Very weak / He had no food / Didn’t sleep / Wife gone / All alone / Sorrowful / On their own / He carried his child / Child was fe…
and there he is, too close to a woman / who is not his wife and the bottle / slips from my hand
Seeing dad in a different light
That was not all the badness, though surely it would have been enough. For the girl remembered other things. She wished she didn’t, but s…
This is a rough draft of a story in progress which is part of a series. That is, it will be part of a series, when it is done. The series is one of two series that I am working on, that involve a different world, in a parallel universe, portals, time travel to some extent, god brothers and the games they play, the sacred veils of the Octagonal one, a lot of socks, and an orange juice can that, stuffed with a strange pamphlet, began the wars proper that had once only infected the Dragons and Man. So, while it does not seem like it, just now, this is definitely firmly suited to the categories of parallel dimensions/universes, and myth/fairy tale. This particular scene is to introduce one of the key characters, who is a normal girl (of sorts) that manages to do some very abnormal things that catch the eye of Chaos and the god brothers.
“Jewel please, you must promise me you won’t go near there, the cars on that road go much too fast,
This was my first attempt at writing a short story which was way back in 1992. I started writing because I had an illness at that time (yeah and again now) called ME. I needed to try to keep sane which any of you who know me is quite hard to do as I like to muck around a lot. (Life is too short to be serious all the time so have fun) I needed mental stimulation so I took up a short story writing course. The rest as they say is history. Now for you experts out there who know the English language inside out you will no doubt find several mistakes in my writing, grammar, spelling, etc, etc. And I know you will say ‘but you can do something about it’ but I can’t, I cannot retain much information anymore so the mistakes will have to stay and I am very sorry if ruins the read for you so please try to understand I write for the love of writing to get down what it is I have to say. I believe the stories are still a good read but you can be the judge just go easy with me, please – thank you. A Child’s Wish was published by New Fiction in 1992 into an Anthology of Short Stories called ‘Shorts from Cornwall’ and was edited by Tracey Walton. Thank you for taking the time to read it and please feel free to leave me a comment if you have the time. I was inspired to write A Child’s Wish because of a beautiful place my brother and I used to visit called Vero farm. (And I don’t think you spell Vero like that sorry Andy.) We had a really great friend who lived there Called Andy Reeve which a lot of you know him and his fantastic work on RB. (Oh yeah, he still is a fantastic friend) The farm was a place I always loved and so did Ken my brother and it gave me the premise for the story
Why does he not run? Now when he knows he is to be beaten
Once in youth I walked by the infant son of / A preacher who railed of hate and hell, / And I grieved for the thought of what would be: / To…
I lay on a mattress at the foot of my parent’s bed. I couldn’t sleep because of the pain in my right foot, specifically in my little pin…
as you grow, love, care, share and tease / keep your dad proud as proud can be / so from the shadows I will love you so / always my child, a…
for my daughters … each one
she had the longest hair.
not fiction
Oh angel face, why so forlorn? / Oh tired eyes, I see you yawn! / You will sleep here safe tonight, / It’s time now for your moonlit flight….
In bloom by Basia McAuley
Snatching the gun from the boy’s hands, White limped to the cot bed and lay on it in pain. The boy did not move.
A short story. Dark, intense and designed to take you from the real world to an uncomfortable space.
I’d expected to hear his side of the story – an equal and opposite force. But instead I heard what I already knew or had pieced together,...
Looking for Alibrandi
Love’s naked and bare Mother gives. / Still … life embodies hope within all. / We are beyond releasing comes.
Based on and inspired by the artwork of eric shepherd / and his inspirational artwork titled: Mother and Child
Gwen looked around in an odd way. I followed her stares, but could see no one. She removed her hand from the boys shoulder and turned her…
Akilah / / Akilah is my given name / and I’m at five a woman / You are the same age as I am, / yet seem so young, still as a child ...
Warning, Akilah is not a comfortable read. Akilah (1) is based on truth, the facts, not the words. How many Akilah’s are there? Who knows? If this story is too confronting, please say so in your comments. It is more comfortable not to know these things. It makes not difference to her. The setting is Africa, two 5-year-old girls in conversation. Akilah’s words are shown left, the blond girl is a tourist from Europe on visit, her words tabbed in. Akilah (1) and (2) can be read as one story, as kids conversations does change subjects. As stand alone Akilah (2) is titled ‘An eagle’s valour’, it is not confronting.
A warm story of how an artwork warmed the hearts and souls of two artist halfway around the world from one another.
Protector and shield, / Strength in love, / Indestructible force, / A tickle for a smile. A gift for any man, / To cherish to be, / To live…
Watched her smile disintigrate, / Saw her bones weaken, / And her mind decieve her;
This poem is pretty self explainitory.
When you lose a grandparent, / you lose a part of your past that the present or future cannot fulfill / When you lose a spouse, / you lose …
In 2005 I lost my firstborn child, a son of the age thirty-nine to a heart disease. I wrote this poem in honor of him and our precious Lord, who gave so much, yet receives so little. I wrote this with all the parents in mind that have and would face such a horrific experience. I want them all to know that we have a God that understand and knows how we feel. He too lost a child, His only begotten son. / Nancy
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