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Tag Archives: fiction writing
I haven’t been talking much about my writing recently. I have been scribbling away however and most recently at the trilogy of short stories I’m putting together under the title Leaves. I’d thought the trilogy complete, then that the stories … Continue reading
A few days ago I felt a first surge of real enthusiasm since the advent of 2016. It came about when I was editing a story which I thought was finished, discovered it wasn’t and started a rewrite. In my … Continue reading
Further to Eclipses and Cuckoos, a further nine stones, unearthed on our lottie over the past month or so. Where they had lain, are now sweetcorn and globe artichokes (and one cardoon, misidentified by the garden centre and masquerading as an artichoke).
They are very similar, cardoons and artichokes. You can eat cardoons – the stems – whereas it is the bud (the large globe) of the globe artichoke that is eaten.
What’s spooky about these nine stones? Continue reading
Above the laptop is a packet of radish seeds. A ball of string.
Secateurs. Continue reading
The Elfin Ladder
“Look, fairy tables!”
“Agaricus arvensis, darling – horse mushrooms.”
“Safe to eat?”
“If they smell of aniseed.”
“Look, an elfin ladder!” Continue reading
What can I do but follow? I’m an old dog now and they’re my home. Wherever they go, I go with them.
It’s been like this, since … Ceaselessly wandering, my humans. They have no choice, but that’s long forgotten, except for cellular memories, urging.
They call it many things, the restlessness. Career move. Downsizing. Looking for a better life. Continue reading
The Shadowfall Quilt
She’d stitched many quilts. They’d gone to the four corners. She needed now to put away her needle and decided on one final quilt, to represent her life.
In her quilting chair on the veranda, she dreamt. The house across the way was staring at her. From its long black door, a voice said, “the sun never knew how wonderful it was until it fell on the wall of a building.” Continue reading
DS Squared Et Cetera
“Lovely approach to her tomb.”
“The pathways are dead ends.”
She looked. “Meaning?”
“Legend says the maze symbolised the unbridgeable divide between the living and the dead.”
“Why have you brought me here?” Continue reading
The boat had grounded in the half-shadows of a willow. The wild flapping of the flag on the mast had drawn his attention.
“I thought it a trapped bird. Strange flag.”
“A tapestry,” she said.
“A madwoman’s creation, Elaine.”
“Mad? Look, here is the moon’s reflection, shattered by the water. Here, the sun, sharded. Here, the stars, broken, all reflected in her mirror.” Continue reading