MistakenMagic

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryMad Maggie threeleafshamrock712 years 10 months ago
StoryChild of Mine Silver Spun Sand1512 years 10 months ago
StoryMorning has Broken skinner_jennifer1912 years 10 months ago
StoryTHE EXTREMELY ABRIDGED HISTORY, PRESENT & FUTURE OF PAUL ASKEW, IN FIVE DREAM SCENES. AKT1712 years 10 months ago
StoryThe Man with the Fish Tattoo Silver Spun Sand1812 years 10 months ago
StoryNext of Kin #5 Beeme112 years 10 months ago
StoryEarly Spring danielwhite87512 years 10 months ago
StoryOn Putting the Clocks Forward Silver Spun Sand1212 years 10 months ago
StoryDon Paterson Didn't Eat His Venison MistakenMagic1712 years 10 months ago
StoryBadly Beaten Broken Heart threeleafshamrock612 years 10 months ago
StoryPoem for a Granddaughter Silver Spun Sand2412 years 10 months ago
StoryRemember! threeleafshamrock912 years 10 months ago
StoryThe Garden threeleafshamrock1412 years 10 months ago
StoryNext Of Kin #4 Beeme612 years 10 months ago
StoryTry to Tell Myself... Silver Spun Sand1712 years 10 months ago
StoryIt Won't Hurt blighters rock1812 years 10 months ago
Storygaps in concrete sid2712 years 10 months ago
StoryBring up the bucket (I.P.) threeleafshamrock1312 years 10 months ago
StoryNice Day for It Silver Spun Sand3212 years 10 months ago
StoryReflections skinner_jennifer1712 years 10 months ago
StoryBad Habits maggyvaneijk1112 years 10 months ago
StoryForeign Affairs Lem312 years 10 months ago
StoryPoor You! threeleafshamrock1312 years 10 months ago
Story'Percussion, Salt and Honey' Silver Spun Sand1712 years 10 months ago
Story'Pie in the Sky' (I.P.) Silver Spun Sand1712 years 11 months ago

My stories

Cherry

Amnesia

My trail of footprints sinks into the sand like a long, rambling confession; the ins and outs of two years of extreme loneliness.
Cherry

Lucid Dreams In Moscow

Part One of a two-part series of poems on my experiences of Russia. 'Looming before me, St Basil's basks in camera flashes, with its candy-cane swirls and pretentious pastels,'
Cherry

Ton Autre Amour

It wasn't that I didn't like Paris; the colours lazily reclining on their canvasses at Montmartre. Gargoyles crawling up the outstretched fingers of Notre Dame.
Cherry

The Prodigals

She crushed us into boulders, curled us into roses. Rejected. Not the perfection she wanted. In this sin-bin we strike cubist poses.

"Verboten"

With a grin you dubbed the subject "Verboten" - surprised me with your German; but then again, everything spoken between us is in a different language.

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