HarryC

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryThe flea Parson Thru310 years 11 months ago
StorySuicide Notes Bee1510 years 11 months ago
StoryA Rebel With Many Causes luigi_pagano410 years 11 months ago
StoryOn the Edge of Damascus - (a photograph) Bee1110 years 11 months ago
StoryBack with Jack Parson Thru210 years 11 months ago
StoryBipolarparanoidschizophrenic Timmy D510 years 11 months ago
StoryI Should Of Said Yes. prettyrose410 years 11 months ago
StoryCapturing Beauty Bee2310 years 11 months ago
Forum topicBob Crow RIP scratch610 years 11 months ago
Forum topicWill I be forgiven for making a Racist Comment? karl_wiggins1310 years 11 months ago
Forum topicPutting up work again prettyrose510 years 11 months ago
StoryThe Art of Letting Go Silver Spun Sand1710 years 11 months ago
StoryHumanity Bee1710 years 11 months ago
Forum topicWriting Courses: Myths Exposed scratch2610 years 11 months ago
StoryA Short, Informal Essay On Politically Incorrect Humor Aung S.K Min410 years 11 months ago
Forum topicNo cherries for JK Rowling blighters rock1210 years 11 months ago

Pages

My stories

Cherry

The Last Christmas Tree (3)

Part Three of my Yuletide tale.
Cherry

The Last Christmas Tree (2)

Continuing my short tale for Yuletide. Following a small accident indoors, Annie is forced to go into town to get some more food for her cat, Tipsy. There, she makes a couple of oddly-connected discoveries...
Cherry

The Last Christmas Tree (1)

A short story I wrote a few years ago and sent to friends and relatives in place of Christmas cards that year. (image: my own)

Strange Times...

I'm quite a rational person. I'm not superstitious, nor do I have any religious beliefs. I don't believe in fate or predestination. At the same time, I have spiritual beliefs... and I think there's much more going on 'behind the scenes' than we can ever really know about. Maybe that means my position is contradictory. But so be it. (Image: my own)
Cherry

Lines Written On My Mother's 90th Birthday

My mother, had she lived, would have been 90 today. I took the day off work in order to make a pilgrimage and commemorate the occasion. These are rough words, unedited, just as they came to me whilst walking. Not a poem. Not a story. Just words. (my photo)
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