JupiterMoon
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | Games People Play | MistakenMagic | 25 | 12 years 2 months ago |
| Story | Strawberry Red | JupiterMoon | 3 | 12 years 3 months ago |
| Story | the dying of the £1 wasp | JupiterMoon | 1 | 12 years 3 months ago |
| Story | strangers sailing through a breakfast sea | JupiterMoon | 3 | 12 years 3 months ago |
| Story | is this thing on? | JupiterMoon | 2 | 12 years 3 months ago |
| Story | You Breathe | Jessiibear | 9 | 12 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Where Butterflies Sleep | Sooz006 | 14 | 12 years 3 months ago |
| Story | fade | JupiterMoon | 2 | 12 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Y Unman | JupiterMoon | 3 | 12 years 4 months ago |
| Story | Love in a time of riots | lavadis | 11 | 12 years 4 months ago |
| Story | Korn | lavadis | 4 | 12 years 4 months ago |
| Story | I am met at the crossroads by a horse of dangerous beauty | lavadis | 7 | 12 years 4 months ago |
| Story | snail | JupiterMoon | 2 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | why people in Range Rovers always look terrified | JupiterMoon | 3 | 12 years 8 months ago |
| Story | there's few things more tragic than a wasted condom | JupiterMoon | 4 | 12 years 11 months ago |
My stories
ladies and gentlemen, the Trafford Centre is now open...
Ladies & Gentleman, the Trafford Centre is Now Open the snaking lines of German automation simmer in the baking weekend sun, resentment clogging the interiors like a drowning gruel.
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- 423 reads
margins
margins i am becoming like a series of pencil strokes; an addendum. squeezed in without thought whilst waiting for the kettle to boil. just a name, left to curl and fray
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- 517 reads
my fallen owl
my fallen owl thrown to the gutter, in a spluttered thunderstorm of progress, my owl lies cold in an open grave. an ill fitting shroud, patched together from sodden litter.
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- 4 comments
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- 1153 reads
the artefact that should never have become such
the artefact that should never have become such i just put it on my table, beside the coffee, and a crowd formed. at first, it was just one man,
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- 1 comment
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- 580 reads
the first crack
the first crack cradling the final one, four hands fumble for the ailing pulse, as the coffee convoy leaves town. the occasional dropped bean crushed under ten tonne wheels.
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- 2 comments
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- 704 reads