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Tag Archives: Short Story 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
We took on an allotment plot, long neglected, last autumn. The weather angel gave us a month of good weather. We cleared away rubbish, cleaned and painted, deep dug and conditioned some squares and rectangles of soil in which to plant potatoes and brassicas in this new growing season. Continue reading
Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction Story: The Dress with the Tennis Racquets Stamped All Over It
The Dress with the Tennis Racquets Stamped All Over It
“Takes you back, don’t it, ol’ bandstand.”
She laughed. “Remember the night we crawled under and it was already occupied?”
“Billy and Lorraine.”
“Lorraine anyway, could have been any of the boys. She broke ‘em in like wild horses.”
“Except you.” 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
In between eco printing and writing flash fiction, I’ve also been scribbling away at a trine of short stories (with illustrations – mine), that I’m going to publish shortly as an ebook. I put the finishing touches to Leaves, Three Short Tales yesterday morning and gave myself a couple of hours off to catch up with dreadful, and dreaded domestic affairs. 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