kerryb

stories and poems

Ko Phi Phi

The trees stir and sway. The warm breeze disturbs my page. I squelch my feet in the damp swallowing sand.
Cherry

A Murky Mind

I was drowning. Gagging and spluttering my way up to morning through a sea of deep-sleep snot. I reached for Kleenex. Ccchuuurrrpp.

Abridged

The sun sinks into the clouds and hugs them close. Seagulls sweep into the murk searching for sustenance amongst the stockpot of seaweed and snapped twigs. The rocks crunch beneath my feet

Asphyxiated

Fucking cancer, fucking disease. I want to take cancer by the throat and strangle it until it chokes and dies.

Beach

Grey sky, grey pebbles, grey surf. The sea sinks into the dark clouds and hugs them close. Seagulls swoop into the murk

Cloak and Daggery

It was quiet; too quiet. He looked up at the darkening sky, his eyes shrink-wrapped with tears. It was getting late. Stevie picked himself up and began the tumble towards home.

Mind the Gap

What do you call the space between sex and love? The middle-ground that clouds my vision and makes me question every look, every statement, every minute. When the passion has subsided

Morning Papers

I can't stop walking. Street after street not registering. Wooden benches mossy with damp don't stop me. Gusts encircle my strides that refuse to slow, to bend their will

My Poor Eye

This is the tale of my poor eye, shining with blood, defiant, dry. In a darkened room, a clunk of heat increases my shivers, love's defeat. His jutting knuckles, bruised and raw,
Cherry

Ray's House

Hearts quickening beneath nylon school blazers. Clenching fists held against prickling hips as we reached the creaking gate that let you know you had reached Ray's house.

Red

Sending her off all scarlet and caped, bound to be taken, eaten or raped: Filthy little slut and only fifteen, glossing her mouth with a lusty sheen: Off to feed the wolves you go,

Roads by Night

Roads by night, stars clustered in nests guide my dusty footprints home. I long to be there now, my head's a mess. The moon glints through branches of distressed

Sonnet Between

Shall I compare you to a winter's night? You are more cold and again more bitter: Rough winds do not cause you worry or fright, and summer puts sour your icy glitter:

Stern

I bend to read the note. Between heads and arms and fingers I catch the gist and imagine. Small, concentrated brush strokes swish across stretched canvas. A furrowed brow easing
Cherry

My Little Eye

It was beginning to heal, but the gash where my eye had been still looked shocking. Clumsy black stitches and swollen clots ballooned in size under my scrutiny.

The Best Ever Story in the World

Maybe I should start with my childhood. That was full of the kind of shit people write about. No. I’m going to be different.
Cherry

The Modern Way

A GIRL sits at a dressing table looking at herself in the mirror. She is 17 but looks younger. She is small for her age and awkward with enormous eyes that are staring back at her.

In the Dark

Mutiny it was down there last week. Darts, I said. We always play darts on a Tuesday.

The Spare Room

Her tired eyes looked strange above the stark white of the bleach that was rapidly lightening her moustache.

The Foreteller

He pulled out his hand to reveal a waxy red appendage that no longer looked his own. The blood had congealed around knuckles and had created a network map on his palms.

Love Is.....

Love is this. Love is the end and the beginning Of our story, our memories, That we should write down and Never will.