Patricia Purvis

Shall I compare thee to a summer day?  

The sons of Scathios are not many, but we exist, hiding in plain sight, yet cautious as stealthy shadows flickering through time.

The oracle of Ages states ‘everything is subject to the passing of time, even that which is immortal’ and yes things around me did transform and I perceived them in their tran…[Read more]

Probably a bit aslant of what you were hoping for Libby, but is the idea that stuck

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’

I guess you had to’ve been there, because even now,  months later, just thinking about it makes me smile. It was the usual semi-dormant Friday afternoon meeting, Anton, our boss, wanting us to brain-storm some sort of…[Read more]

Only three entries but what a selection!

All expertly written and cleverly presented is evidence that Den of Writers contains a wealth of experienced and skilled writers.

1. Wow Libby what a wonderfully executed piece of verb-less writing; plus a well-crafted opening sentence as well.

Richly descriptive but without verbs, the shorter…[Read more]

“Season to taste”

I could say it started as a joke, except I knew, at that age, Suze and I were, a bit self-consciously, aiming to bridge the gap between our schoolgirl selves and the mysterious, scary-but-enticing grown-up world we were bracing ourselves to enter.

Both of us were in top English. Read our homework to each other, critiqued (a mor…[Read more]

This was such a good challenge producing three different  perspectives .

I agree with Sandra picking a winner is  always difficult  at the best of times and I think we all did brilliantly. So well done Ath and  Sandra and thanks for passing the baton over to me, Libby.

I will be posting  next months challenge shortly .

Wow. Thank you Libby for this at-first-sight innocuous challenge. (I tried to resist the autobiographical, but in the end it was the only way for me to go) so thank you Terrie and Ath for such impactful alternatives; I’m glad I didn’t have the task of choosing between them.

Electricity and us

Electricity has played a considerable part in directing  the path our lives have travelled, from the instant (if only sensory) flash of knowledge, at the end of our first date, that “This man is who I can safely be ME with!” to our fifty years of living in the North East.

At that time (5th April 1963) he worked for a comp…[Read more]

Hunting The Children of Electric

You may think we’ve harnessed electricity but don’t be fooled by its compliance, it’s merely an angry beast straining at its leash, longing to be free.

If you’ve stood watching for the crackle-flash of its untamed brother, then counted and listened for the rumble, you’ll know what I mean when I say, the effec…[Read more]

A most enjoyable writing challenge for May, Ath.
Well done Libby, Sandra and Sea for creating such powerfully expressive reading.
Looking forward to Libby’s June challenge.

Thank you Ath, both for the competition and for your encouraging summing up. I certainly would’ve been hard-pressed to choose a winner, so congratulations and thanks to Libby, and also to Terrie and Seagreen.

(This may well be missing the point)

The language of flowers not always sweet

Only after finding, (months later)  photographs other than the ones taken by fourteen-year-old schoolgirl Kally Logan that caused all the trouble did Luke Darbyshere register flowers had twice been fleetingly present on his wedding day. Much of the time he’d been su…[Read more]

Plant-Song

Nepenthes, the watcher, teaches us to listen for murmurs along the grapevine because the scent of those words is strong and always carry seeds of the truth. They whisper tales of creation that began beneath woody crowns of ancient cycad trees and of cerebral vines, trailing and probing in thickly netted curls upon the loamy earth.

The…[Read more]

Sea, thank you for the useful challenge, especially because it helped me formulate my character as well as sparking such a brilliant range of responses; I wouldn’t’ve liked to choose a winner.

Not Date stamp Approved

I am waiting in a line of silent people.
Through the high-domed crystalline crown of windows, pale light, drifting like blossom in the air, reflects a gauzy veil of sleepy light and a comfort blanket of warm, mysterious, air coils softly with it.

There is a sense of waking on a limp summer morning coated in the scent of…[Read more]

Mishaping to fit

Only as he pushed open the door into Haugesund’s Folkepuben, his mind occupied not only with what he needed to establish with Lars Sigmundssen but also a slightly fearful curiosity as to how Lars would react to his having slept with Maja, Lars’ current woman, was Rick Thorssen reminded, by the roar of convivial con…[Read more]