Mick Hanson

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryFireworks in the Snow Silver Spun Sand3513 years 1 month ago
StorySomeone deadly beneath (part1) Zokaya214 years 2 weeks ago
StoryThe Black Caiman Mick Hanson315 years 2 months ago
StoryEat bees span615 years 11 months ago
StoryIs a Half of Hedgehog better than No Hedgehog at All? Mick Hanson416 years 1 month ago
StoryNot One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich Mick Hanson816 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Catholic Priest Father George. Mick Hanson216 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Land of a Thousand Arseholes! Mick Hanson616 years 9 months ago
StoryThe tale of the Satanic Croissant! PowisNewton116 years 9 months ago
StoryBrighton Beach 1.00am jennifer916 years 9 months ago
Storyplease take me with you someplace better than this culturehero316 years 9 months ago
Forum topicABCtales evening. sabital1116 years 10 months ago
StoryThe End of Imagination CheleCooke516 years 10 months ago
StoryThe Night Before THECUNNINGFOX716 years 11 months ago
StoryDog Day Afternoon Mick Hanson316 years 11 months ago
Forum topicWaiting for a reply antoinette116 years 11 months ago
StoryWhich Andrew? Sooz006417 years 1 week ago
StoryGently Giant Rebekah617 years 1 week ago
StoryTwo men in a car, it was an old escort or something. George Terry117 years 1 week ago
StoryThe Last Rites of Horace Tees maudsy317 years 2 weeks ago
CollectionA Sparkle The Chosen One117 years 2 weeks ago
StoryAN ODE TO BELLA Mitzi Leahy317 years 4 weeks 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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