Mick Hanson

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryFireworks in the Snow Silver Spun Sand3514 years 2 weeks ago
StorySomeone deadly beneath (part1) Zokaya214 years 11 months ago
StoryThe Black Caiman Mick Hanson316 years 1 month ago
StoryEat bees span616 years 10 months ago
StoryIs a Half of Hedgehog better than No Hedgehog at All? Mick Hanson417 years 5 days ago
StoryNot One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich Mick Hanson817 years 5 days ago
StoryThe Catholic Priest Father George. Mick Hanson217 years 8 months ago
StoryThe Land of a Thousand Arseholes! Mick Hanson617 years 8 months ago
StoryThe tale of the Satanic Croissant! PowisNewton117 years 8 months ago
StoryBrighton Beach 1.00am jennifer917 years 8 months ago
Storyplease take me with you someplace better than this culturehero317 years 9 months ago
Forum topicABCtales evening. sabital1117 years 9 months ago
StoryThe End of Imagination CheleCooke517 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Night Before THECUNNINGFOX717 years 10 months ago
StoryDog Day Afternoon Mick Hanson317 years 10 months ago
Forum topicWaiting for a reply antoinette117 years 10 months ago
StoryWhich Andrew? Sooz006417 years 11 months ago
StoryGently Giant Rebekah617 years 11 months ago
StoryTwo men in a car, it was an old escort or something. George Terry117 years 11 months ago
StoryThe Last Rites of Horace Tees maudsy317 years 11 months ago
CollectionA Sparkle The Chosen One117 years 11 months ago
StoryAN ODE TO BELLA Mitzi Leahy318 years 1 day ago

My stories

Cherry

Speakers Corner 10am

I left the doss house after breakfast that morning and went along Oxford Street to harvest my dog ends.

Corned Beef Sandwiches.

I wrote to the Duke to ask for my mother’s wish to be buried near her parents. His reply was the curtest possible refusal. Standing by the tiny grave in the hideous suburban cemetery...

West of the Nile.

The wind bending trees and flattening the grass, brings startling images. Pitches me not into memory, but fact. Bad dreams. Adrenaline rushes. I keep telling myself it is not happening...

Dog Day Afternoon

Desolation gripped Scott. Not the despondency of Knightsbridge or the King’s Road. Not the feelings invoked by slatternly whores who sidled up to him at ‘hooray’ parties...

Not One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

I thought of ME 110's and bomber moons over London lighting the Thames and fires burning, and death raining down from the roaring heavens...how the children cried. A cold sweat soaked my inner cloths.

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