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Tag Archives: Short Fiction Writing
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
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
Every Friday writers worldwide gather round the virtual fireside of Rochelle Wisoff and share stories of 100 words, prompted by a common photograph, and exchange constructive criticism. You don’t have to write to read. Click on the blue frog at … 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
His parents didn’t come to the wedding; their gift a garish orange dinner service – cheap fairground prize won long ago.
“Carnival glass is collectable these days,” Adi had said, generously, adding,“they’ll come round. Patience.” Continue reading
I’ve been itching for the week to pass so I could open up my second batch of eco print bundles.
The first picture shows half of a long narrow band of the jacket lining fabric (probably cotton) that I used for some of my first eco prints. This time the colour is more pronounced. Again, I bound the bundles with sari silk and the colour has transferred. I also sandwiched in some rusty staple gun staples. I found a whole boxful in the shed that have lain around for a long time and are no longer fit for purpose. The frieze – as I’m calling it – looks like some sort of music notation. Continue reading