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Latest Stories & Poems


An Echo Rings

A heartbeat can be a story in itself

An echo rings. It is a heartbeat; or maybe two. Shall we guess, or do we know? An echo rings. It’s in my mind; maybe you hear, too? Maybe you hear two? An echo rings. It is there. It is here. It is one. It is our heartbeat; a destined union. An echo rings. Can you hear it? Can you feel it? It is our heartbeat; lay your head on my chest. Listen. That heartbeat is us.  ...Read On


Withering Cello

  Darkness can lead to depression, insecurity, and anxiety. If you ain't hap-hap happy in the shadows. Dark needs no light when all roads lead to the twilight of a thousand years. But don't be sad, take my hand. Fadeaway from your broken heart and latch on to dark's addiction. Feel your veins bleed from red to cold. Listening to the silence of the withering cello.      ...Read On


I'm Buying If You're Flying

There will always be buyers and flyers.



"Help Wanted. Enquire by calling."

Pulling at the sinews of the cold's dark furnace, of death's little grey speckled rigmarole,   with the smoke of Hell rising from the obituary pages, beneath, "Help Wanted. Enquire by calling,"  signed by the Mad Hatter....Read On


Fuel Season 2: Episode 15 – The Dark Night

Series: Stories of the Fuel Speedway

It may not be Christmas, but it's Die Hard tonight as Solo tries to thwart Thawn's evil ploy...

18th of January – Season 2 "So what's going on with you, man," said Styles.  "Are you ever going to start posting on your  Formulary  page or what?" Solo Magubane let out a deep breath. "C'mon, just drive the car, man." Besides the fact that this was the fifth time that Styles had asked him about that in the space of a week, Solo was also irritated because he remembered just how much...Read On


I am, Missing you, like I’ve had you once before. Reaching out to feel, and felt something more. You must know that you are whom I adore. Compelled by a force that no one can see, Driven forward to hold onto dreams, Caring for someone who can’t be with me. Not understanding the feeling, but feeling too much. How I wish you knew how I longed for your touch. Aching and burning, this...Read On


Son Of Mayhem And Diphtheria

As the chill of death came over me and me in my pj's of detox. In my gadabout as a social chameleon. Changing spots, and offering the pox. Honing my quill with a double edge samovar spewing my rot. Of ejaculations for madmen fools from my pen of a gothic persuasion. Dripping from my tongue to your lips in my loathsome hysteria. Feeling the flesh of night disassemble of digestible words for...Read On


Healing Hands

Touch me with your healing hands



Let's take a trip

Series: Back to my roots

Seb and Cindy decide what to do with the weekend. Three of five

Saturday I suppose it’s the first sign that she’s into you, asking you to go away for a few days. Maybe I should have suggested it but I didn’t have the money. At least she does, or at any rate the contacts. So what happens? It’s a warm early evening in late August and I’m meeting Cindy in town. I’ve spent the day in the sun and am showered and shaved and ready for a big night. The taxi...Read On



Third of three connecting stories that can also stand alone.

Insomnia ... I can’t get no sleep ... Can he who is haunted by his actions pass on such a haunting with one single final action? Total darkness, eyes open, disturbed by an unending plop ... plop ... plop ... all there is, and it is all around, an eternal mind-numbing drip that must be stopped, it needs to be stopped. Fully awake in a conscious slumber, that drip must be found and ended....Read On


Gold Ribbons

I remember the window of the sun. I remember the peeling paint on the picket fence. I remember when the sun never winked until noon. Then came the summer rains as a spark tore the blue and umbrellas dripping rainbows. I remember little Lord Jesus and the drummer boy. Most of all, I remember my granny's sewing box and gold ribbons of when she was a young girl.  ...Read On


These walls

these walls defend the seed that grows as root and stem extend their throws no angry mob, no crippling gale can cause the seedling spread to fail these walls allow the plant to think to find it's own internal sync to see the sky and see the ground and weave the two in lace profound these walls rebound the tempting call of those who'd see the progress stall as flowers bloom and scent...Read On



What happens too much in relationships

  You gave me your word. Liar. You said I will be yours forever. Bullshit. You told me we would remain monogamous. I did, you did not. You said you loved me. You love yourself only. I held your hand during your down times. You held another woman. I gave you my heart. You gave me lies. What makes a person do what you did to me? Are you soulless? Have you no shame? The answer...Read On

Hope Fades To Acceptance

Every time that I seem to advance, I take one step forward, and two steps back.   Please hold my hand, I don't want to go it alone. I'm trying so hard-- Not to turn my back on the world. In the way that you have turned your back on me.   Maybe I am angry at you.   Maybe it shows.. Perhaps I don't really care.. That is a lie though, I suppose. There you go.   Still there but lost to me....Read On


Halloween Tale

Fun times

It is a quiet fall day and Halloween is right around the corner. Halloween candy as far as the eye can see. Itty bitty candy bars and mountains of candy corn and Laffy taffy. Little ones in their Halloween costumes. Witches, ghosts, firemen, nurses, and policemen. The usual cast of characters for spooky good fun. Parents looking for things to occupy the little ones to keep them safe....Read On


The Depot

I have a make-believe teabag in my watch pocket. A crumpet off the griddle. Still warm with freshly churned butter. And I have seashells from the seashore, although there ain't no sand. But I carry my dreams in a bottle of Jack Daniels. Waiting here at the depot as the world passes me by. My ticket is punched. With a make-believe tea bag in my watch pocket.      ...Read On



Metamorphosis:- a striking alteration in appearance, character, or circumstances. It is said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. For many, the eyes can tell a whole story on their own before even the beginnings of a word can be spoken. Eyes, they don’t lie … unless they want to and at that, they can then offer a deceptive sense of calm. A point came in the young life of a certain...Read On


Wake Up, Baby

Living among good Christian folks.

"Baby? You awake? Wanna date?" The car had pulled up and awakened the boy, crunching on the gravel road. It wasn't the first time. He reached under and made sure the ax was under the couch where he slept at night. Keeping it there felt safer. His mother whispered through the front door, "It's after three. You'll wake the kids."  They were always drunk. They'd leave at last. This...Read On


Chance encounter

Series: Back to my roots

July. Seb meets an old friend and receives a phone call. Second part of five

Saturday I’m heading down the street in the direction of The Red Lion. I’m out late tonight. You know how it is, too much time spent lying in the sun knocks you out if you’re not careful. Now I’m trying to find the others, Dixie, Billy, Callum and the rest. I’ve been to The Ship and a couple of other places already and there’s no sign of them. That said, I’m feeling good. It’s a warm...Read On


The questions of life

Ever wondered who said we should be perfect?

The purpose of our life, How do we know when there is no guide? Is one supposed to be happy? Who said life is all about being merry? Or should one go through pain? How do we know that's not the aim? Is there such thing as destiny? If yes, why so much cruelty? If no, then why inequality? Ever thought why are we here for? Definitely not to destroy... Then why is survival a fight? ...Read On


Love Made Me Do It

No one can know any of what I’m about to tell, but still, I’m putting it out there. I can’t help myself, either in action or with placing dots out in the open where they can easily be connected if one were so inclined to link those dots together. Maybe I want to be caught; on some level, this must be true. If I am caught then I’m sure that’ll be that, I’ll be toast... Brown bread, either at...Read On


Dust Motes

This is how I come to love the dark in writing. Without a map. Now comprised of Trappists and interesting people. From my bookshop's Rolodex. It started with a fascination. Then withdrawing from my insomnia while stroking my black cat. Now I am living in the dark aware of my proclivities to steep my tea with a bit of truth. There is honesty in the dark when a shadow is my muse. It started...Read On


Same Day Round

Nicole's coughing woke Nigel and Ian. It was half seven in the morning and in a way, it was just as well that the three friends were awake. The owner of the shop doorway they had been sleeping in would be arriving soon to open for about eight and he has a severe dislike of the idea that his premises are being used in the manner that the three waking friends are using it. The coughing...Read On

Like A Feather Fallen

Awash in melancholy thought...

Separate from her comrades She cannot soar, like they do Cruely detached and condemned     To drift Inevitably toward   The darkness of the forest floor       Alone and cold     With bitter sickness   Filtering into damp decay   The leaf litter begins smothering     Precious light, away from her eyes       Awash in melancholy thought     Tendrils of chagrin     Drift through her psyche    ...Read On


Back To My Roots

Series: Back to my roots

Heading home for the summer, under a cloud. First of five part story

Wednesday So that’s it. The journey into wonderland is over as soon as it started. I’m sitting on the train, looking out of the window at the fields passing. It’s a beautiful evening in June and the sky is blue and cloudless. It’ll be getting dark soon and I’m making the most of it before it does. There’s still a fair amount of the journey home to go. I’m sipping from a cold can of...Read On


If Fate Was Kind



Sleepytime Rows

Of furrows forgotten in sleepytime rows listening to the silence tickling the ivories of my soul's pitter-patter playing the keys on my way to heaven feeling all my fears vanish   ...Read On


My Sirocco

When the mist of death rises  from the mind of my sirocco on a chariot of bell tones I will shower your memories with tears of orange mandarin and love's puree  from the mind of my sirocco with footprints in the sand  ...Read On

Bel Esprit

To whom I call my dearest, Beloved bel esprit. So full of love and hope. And the hope for love

To whom I call my dearest,   Beloved bel esprit.   So full of love and hope.   And the hope for love.      Love ,     I am truly enamored.   For even the passing thought,   Of your sweet kisses,   Puts me at peace.         Peaceful ,       Even as I yearn for you.   My heart, my spirit, my mind and body.   My very essence is electrified by.  Thoughts of us.     Us ,       We--fierce...Read On


The Long Road Home. Chapter 27

“Where are you going?” he asked abruptly. “Berlin,” Katarina replied.

Dresden, February 13 th 1945   Katarina and Maria seemed to be waiting for a long time for a tram that they were beginning to think, wasn't coming. Furthermore, they seemed to be the only ones waiting. The sky was devoid of clouds, and the stars twinkled and glimmered brightly in the dark, night sky. It would have been a beautiful scene was it not for the cold that seemed...Read On