I like to pretend I am the conductor of an orchestra, like the ones Pa took me to see when I was small. We'd sneak in at the interval and hide within the shadows, until it was safe to choose our seats. Now on the cold days, my hands become my baton, like I’m Nadia Boulanger conducting… Continue reading Urban Symphony (Friday Fictioneers)
I turned 40 this week and I was feeling very positive about it, although I have been much less so about my writing. After a year and a half of building confidence and having the words and ideas flow quite freely, I've been in a drought for while, probably 6 months of a drought. A… Continue reading Hello Forty, Goodbye Writer’s Block
It’s National Storytelling Week this week. It’s also the week my Mum turns 70 (gulp - how old does that make me?!). I find that quite fitting. After all it was my Mum, like many mothers before her and since, who introduced me and my three sisters to the magic of stories. My Mum -… Continue reading Here’s to Magic Mums
The Whispering Woods They told me not to go in there. Into the woods where the you-know-whats lurk. Huge hulks of brown fury, all claws and teeth and menace. They said terrible things would happen to me if I did. I weaved a finger into my locks as I listened... Read more here. Let Me Go She… Continue reading Published Fiction: The Whispering Woods & Let Me Go – The Sirens Call – Issue 42, Dec 2018
I remember the time you stepped on a shell and your big toe burst open all bloody. 'That's your fault' you spat at me, as Mum bent to nurse your wound. 'I'm sorry' I said, confused. You said it again with a mouthful of teeth, your bike strewn on the pavement behind you. 'I'm sorry'… Continue reading Chalk It Down (Friday Fictioneers)
Who knew such joy could come from the sound of you chewing a banana. Your nose is a little stuffed and you breathe heavily between chews, sucking the air in through your mouth and out again. You’ve chosen my knee as your dining spot, and like a chair I cocoon you as you munch. Who… Continue reading Boy
I remember peering around the doorway watching each plate shatter, splintering into a ceramic snowstorm at the hands of my mother. For some reason my memory has omitted the sound. I see her mouth open wide, her eyes and nose dripping. I see the droplets merging with the flying debris as she furiously throws her… Continue reading PUBLISHED FICTION – Shatter the Silence – the Same Online Journal – Issue 12.1, August 2018
"Her green eyes close and sleep follows. Her favourite time of day, or rather night. At night she escapes her diagnosis, her ageing bones and the tang of disinfectant that pervades this ‘home’. At night she ..." [Read more here] Published in the Same online literary journal, Issue 10.2, 11th June 2018
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot Eva stopped for a moment, leaning back against the cool stone of a vast pillar. Droplets of sweat tickled at her temples as they began their descent down her cheeks. She sucked air into her aching chest, her thoughts racing like the beating of her heart. Mere seconds and she… Continue reading Quite the Exhibition
My heart seemed to stop, up high in my rib-cage where it had leapt and then frozen. I grasped desperately at the air, as the intricate glass bowl plummeted beyond my reach toward the harsh tiles of the kitchen floor. The sound rang out like a million tiny bells tolling, calling out into the silent… Continue reading Hush Now (Friday Fictioneers)
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