Newbie

<u>Pocket Money</u>

Hidden in gloom-light, he shadow-shifts within the numinous cloak of darkness rippling and folding into a Samhain-shadowed mist, as it protects him within its unsettled veil.

Hood pushed back, revealing small horns twisting, like red fingers, on dark hair, falling away over his shoulders, he glides over the grass.

Drawn…[Read more]

I’m late with the congratulations – life has been frantic for a few days! Thanks so much for the prompt, @jillsted. A thoughtful piece from @libby is a more-than-worthy winner. And well done to @knickylaurelle for a splendidly acute story.

Thank you, Jill! That was a lovely surprise when I switched on this morning. Such brilliant writing from Knicks and Ath, everything so vivid and pleasurable to read.

The Artist of Wexton

A gust of icy wind blew across the beach, and I turned to one side and pulled my coat tighter. Doing so, I realised that something was wrong, but I wasn’t quite sure what. An elderly woman stood about fifty yards to the west looking out to sea. There was something almost mournful about her, and, against my usual inclination I…[Read more]

Fabulous indeed – thanks for the link, Libby. I’ve much enjoyed Emma’s two previous novels, so this will be a cert.

This month I’ve gone for an essay, or at any rate not a story.

338 words

Outside my window there’s the small garden and then a field, where a tractor drags a harrow. The harrow’s arms are open and horizontal. Metal discs hang below them, making contact with the ground, and I hear the discs rattling along the soil and bouncing over flints. The…[Read more]

Only two entries, as Athelstone rightly points out, but both were a joy insofar as they echoed some of my experiences.  Like Jill, Steve and I were but 16 and eighteen – me young enough to be banned from going on the back of his motorbike, but after four years of ‘going steady’, when  Steve asked my Dad for,  permission  to marry me his response…[Read more]