harrietmacmillan
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | The Pilgrim Soul | harrietmacmillan | 0 | 11 years 7 months ago |
| Story | The Plague | harrietmacmillan | 1 | 11 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Heart Library | harrietmacmillan | 1 | 11 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Hailstones | harrietmacmillan | 2 | 11 years 7 months ago |
| Story | Gold and Trinkets Glitter in the Flame | harrietmacmillan | 0 | 11 years 7 months ago |
| Story | The Lake | harrietmacmillan | 5 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Spinothalamic Tract | harrietmacmillan | 1 | 12 years 5 months ago |
| Story | Oxford, | harrietmacmillan | 3 | 12 years 9 months ago |
| Story | When We Were Seventeen | harrietmacmillan | 3 | 12 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Half-Asleep | harrietmacmillan | 2 | 12 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Unquestioning | harrietmacmillan | 10 | 12 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Magpie Mile | harrietmacmillan | 2 | 12 years 10 months ago |
| Story | The Cailleach | harrietmacmillan | 3 | 12 years 10 months ago |
My stories
Cartography
I write best when I use a fountain pen For then I can best map the rivers of blue (better than black). The eyebrows of ink arching the i's Stroking the t's. As the vein-blue capillaries sink
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- 1 comment
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- 402 reads
A Life of Crime
You chose me with your eyes. You tell me, everyone tells That love is blind. Such lies make maggots of our souls. My face, dear victim, was your only mercenary goal.
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- 369 reads
The Lake
She was drowning. Not literally, she was a competent swimmer and boasted as much survival instinct as anybody else, but she was drowning all the same.
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- 5 comments
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- 1636 reads
Autumn or Keats' Correction
How can you be called mellow when all around you are burning? In auburn flame the light gutters and half-lit hues of chestnut give birth, To creeping, wombed darknesses of night.
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- 1 comment
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- 522 reads
Decentre
Mine I We Us but always
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- 3 comments
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- 533 reads