animan

Primary tabs

TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryIts Broken indigogold316 years 3 months ago
StoryFlorentine debate animan216 years 3 months ago
StoryDream Brooklands616 years 4 months ago
StoryNo' A pome so much as a le''er animan416 years 5 months ago
StoryReceiver jennifer416 years 5 months ago
StoryDrawn Like Knives jennifer316 years 5 months ago
Forum topicABCtales evening July 5th tcook4216 years 5 months ago
Storyone and one makes four animan316 years 5 months ago
StorySnow sonic_tonic216 years 5 months ago
StoryOthered Ewan616 years 5 months ago
Storyskim animan616 years 5 months ago
StoryWitch Bitch jennifer1716 years 5 months ago
StoryGrowing Up - Competition Entry Dynamaso1416 years 5 months ago
StoryEncounters sunshine1516 years 5 months ago
StoryThe Last Summer Night jennifer616 years 5 months ago
StoryJust Running mori saltson316 years 5 months ago
StoryBent will jennifer516 years 6 months ago
StoryNodding in silence animan216 years 6 months ago
Forum topicAn ABC conversation - Join in! markbrown3916 years 6 months ago
StoryDust BeamsAndVoids816 years 6 months ago
StoryHave you heard? animan216 years 6 months ago
StoryOfferings HaiAnh516 years 6 months ago
Forum topicAnybody Out There? TheShyAssassin516 years 6 months ago
StoryDesigned to shock jennifer1316 years 6 months ago
StoryCruel North Wind sunshine516 years 6 months ago

My stories

Cherry

Battledene (IP)

Why Battledene? Why there? Well, it’s like this, you see. ... They don’t want me to tell you about them. They’re secret and must not be revealed. Should I? Should I not?

Sitting in the British Library

Why do I love it, why does it get me down? Why? I like the sheen and the patina and the sloping doors, the slope of the floors, the romanticisation of books, of covers, illuminations ... I like

spaces

I saw love as taking. I said this is my love and you must share your fruits with me. You must not question. You must not disagree.

at the returns counter

As we wait to return what we thought we wanted, with our minds on our things like our shoes on our feet, can we think of the nude that lives under our clothes, can we think of the song
Cherry

sleep

to ricochet off waterfalls of light cascading at the edge and end of night, and glance off magma seas of suns at ember; to be glimpsed near glassy shores by eyes on stalks,

Pages