Cherrypicked stories
Unspoken Omelette
So there you were, your cheeks burnished by lack of sleep, your lips just about touching, wavering on top of each other, waiting for something to...
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- 54 reads
The Curse of Eternal life
pic taken at home on my iPhone
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- 8 comments
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- 127 reads
Awake
Almost the worst thing A face that no longer speaks Warfarin and medical wattle One that makes you weep Sloshing around is somebody No need for an...
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- 7 comments
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- 268 reads
The Wizard Detective 2
I tried all afternoon to disconnect myself from the table, but I couldn’t stop it following me around. It went everywhere I went, even when I passed...
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- 67 reads
Parcel for you - Part 42
Vanessa followed her husband into the kitchen and pushed the door closed but not clicked. ‘Hey, stop being so bloody helpful,’ she whispered. Spencer...
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- 10 comments
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- 367 reads
Sandhill Only in Name
The sand hill crane is an immaculate beast I have not once seen on sand or hill, Rather knee-deep in retention water Steaming its belly feathers in...
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- 47 reads
Still Life II
Yesterday never really got light. A bleak midwinter day if ever there was one. Sky, a twilit grey-green all day, somewhere between aventurine and...
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- 38 reads
The Meeting of the Waters
A few words about my love affair with one of Europe's great rivers and her little sister.
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- 9 comments
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- 232 reads
The Vagabond Heirs of Francisco Franco
They sit in every cafe-bar named after the street on whose corner it squats. Smoking, small-eyed, wall-eyed moustachioed muchachos remembering kisses...
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- 2 comments
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- 65 reads
Roommate
I tightened my grip on the box of books, the corners biting into my palms, as I navigated the narrow staircase to my new apartment. The air was thick...
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- 6 comments
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- 287 reads
On December Nights in 1973
On December Nights in 1973 Our mum, she loved Marks & Spencer. She'd always say, "Ohh.You can't beat them for quality. For value!" Every...
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- 4 comments
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- 90 reads
The Rain
The Rain His first memory is when he hid under his Mum’s bed to scare her new boyfriend. The boyfriend had needles. At the time he didn’t know what...
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- 3 comments
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- 88 reads
Stormy Night Of Passion
Fading into night, stars intrinsic to space and time twinkle, while chilly forked branches interlace; those giants stand tall watching over living...
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- 15 comments
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- 266 reads
Another Cup Of Coffee (Dead Reckoning series - Part 38)
In which Josiah and Archibald escape from the long arm of the law, but for how long?
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- 2 comments
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- 162 reads
Still Life
Friday evening, joined a ceilidh-zoom for the Geopoetics Society Christmas celebration. Forgot about all that zoom, ‘you’re-on-mute‘, kafuffle. Am...
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- 2 comments
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- 71 reads
Globe’s North-South Divide
The cold takes hold, night’s darkness lingers longer but down in the South the growth’s reviving, the daylight’s lengthening, strengthening, its...
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- 4 comments
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- 86 reads
Goth Kit (IP)
At seventeen, I was a goth. A serious goth. I lived in skin-tight black drainpipes, slippery viscose shirts, eyeliner so sharp it could cut glass,...
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- 10 comments
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- 512 reads
On High with the Angels
Drove home on Monday via the Glamis Road, avoiding the queues from Dundee roadworks. Exited for Kinfauns and rather than go left towards Scone, out...
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- 4 comments
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- 75 reads
Comfort
She was just a little thing, this cousin of mine: eleven, maybe twelve, whatever young enogh to register Fear and peer away from it, toward Safety...
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- 4 comments
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- 84 reads
The Worm
Of all of my books, it is De Vermis Mysteriis that is the most mysterious. An old book copied from much older sources, translated into different languages and kept hidden, it details long lost civilisations and their monstrous gods. For our history is a crafted lie, created to hide the fact that we are not the first intelligent races to exist on this planet.
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- 4 comments
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- 258 reads