Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryWhere is the harm in looking? Mark Heathcote03 years 1 month ago
StoryOf cause it’s all lies, it always is Mark Heathcote03 years 1 month ago
StoryOur vases were filled with wine Mark Heathcote03 years 1 month ago
StoryFewer nicks’ no, grey upholstery Mark Heathcote23 years 1 month ago
StoryA Medusa's calling… Mark Heathcote43 years 1 month ago
StoryCrying for her first emperor… Mark Heathcote13 years 1 month ago
StoryMisplaced ego! Mark Heathcote33 years 1 month ago
StoryForeign exchange students…? Mark Heathcote23 years 1 month ago
StoryLove and envy… Mark Heathcote43 years 1 month ago
StoryCaught between two opposing angels Mark Heathcote43 years 1 month ago
StoryWardrobe-skeletons Mark Heathcote03 years 1 month ago
StoryCrab apple… Mark Heathcote13 years 1 month ago
StoryYou’re not middle aged yet you think? Mark Heathcote03 years 1 month ago
StoryIn the froth of life Mark Heathcote13 years 1 month ago
StoryTeachers pet…? Mark Heathcote03 years 1 month ago
StoryArt beauty and lust… Mark Heathcote23 years 1 month ago
StoryLove and rapture! Mark Heathcote23 years 1 month ago
StoryMy outlet in times of trouble Mark Heathcote43 years 1 month ago
StoryOrange is my colour of love Mark Heathcote03 years 1 month ago
StoryHave we lingered in their attic floors? Mark Heathcote13 years 1 month ago
StoryI sat beneath a Bobhi tree Mark Heathcote23 years 1 month ago
StoryWe looked for something past remembrance Mark Heathcote23 years 1 month ago
StorySail boat Mark Heathcote53 years 1 month ago
StorySands of time Mark Heathcote63 years 1 month ago
StoryLet Us All Garden One Small Precious Flower Mark Heathcote33 years 1 month ago

My stories

Party games and balloons

There were always three in a corner. And if you were feeling a little bit frisky and naughty you’d-one, large sausage in-betweens two round ones for...

Hibiscus flowers

What’s revealed inside a beating heart? That projects the light of the universe What is unveiled that isn’t first shown? That transfixes the...

Touches of a Master

We are all merely brushstrokes, a pigment on a canvas touched by the hand of a Master our colours bleed out to explore the subtler textures of this...

Sheer ecstasy

There are moments of sheer ecstasy the likes of opening windows reflecting on a million panes of glass that is like windows opening when you fall...

Do I-just-imagine?

Is it me, or do I-just-imagine? There's a living dance - sure I hear a string of guitars and castanets and ants are coupling to do the fandango just...
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