Friday, November 24, 2017
As announced on www.newshortstories.com
I have just sent a newsletter to our 1762 subscribers, with the cover reveal, biographies, publication details etc for Willesden Herald: New Short Stories 10 and other news. Link to view online: Newsletter.
Many thanks to Stratos Fountoulis for the cover design and once again to Lane Ashfeldt, to Liars’ League for continuing support over the years, and to the much-missed Willesden Green Writers’ Group, who helped keep this competition going through hell & high water. And all writers everywhere, here’s to you!
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Other ideas I've had about evolutionary traits. I don't know if they are common knowledge anyway:
- The horrible feeling of scratching your nails on a blackboard, which sets your teeth on edge, must be a protection against damaging your teeth or nails on stones when biting or scratching in the ground for food.
- The hypnic jerk ("sleep start") just before falling asleep, forces you to check that you are not in a position to fall out of bed, or - way back - to fall out of the branches of a tree in which you are nesting.
- The eyelids are the first part to become paralysed on beginning to fall asleep.
Tuesday, October 03, 2017
Back with the B.....s again. This time I did meet E.... but also the others and even B......., whom, ostensibly I was there to see. In fact he left me alone for a while and who should come in only E-, and we got talking. She wanted to make some point, to harp on about abortion, and there it was, the same old religious incompatibility. It soon became clear that I had to go. It was raining hard outside, but while dressing I couldn't find the coat I came in with. I was looking for it - they have so many clothes strewn around - and eventually took something I'm not even sure was mine, which was only a vest, I think. After that fuss, I thought better of trying to find a box of chocolates that B- had given me earlier, which I had since lost sight of. It might seem selfish to ask after it, and there was still no sign of B-. As I was leaving, going out into the rain, ill-clothed and with a long walk ahead, most of the family, though not B-, was there in the hallway to see me off. Even the reverend himself - tall, smiling, happy. I couldn't really say anything, not about what had transpired, neither the missing box of chocolates, my difficulty with clothes nor the unwanted topic with E-, on my way out the door.
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
I carry someone back to the flats. The shrilling of evil is all around. One kind friend guides me by, towards the entrance. Another cheerfully leads the way. She has only a clean robotic mechanism exposed across the shoulders and nothing above. But the dreadful shrilling of evil is all-pervasive.
Friday, April 21, 2017
In the night town, it is pitch dark. An endless column of people stand in the road, each row of women followed by a row of men. As one, each of the men pins a little padlock brooch to the side of the waist of the woman in front, quickly and easily. I try to pin mine to your waist but tear your dress a little, and so it fails. It's late. Now the last few from the crowd are dispersing and I'm in an empty car park above the park gates, but I can't find you. There is a steep, grassy hill which will be a shortcut down to the railings and the main gate, where I can almost catch up with the crowd. I edge down the narrow beaten track. But halfway, I think I will lose you completely this way, so I go back up to the car park. I think about taxis, but there aren't any at this hour. It occurs to me that I might contact you by phone. At first I try my smart phone. It has a wonderful but incomprehensible display of clockwork wheels and cogs, and I don't know how to work it. Then I try a tiny phone but it's dead. Walking home from town, out of the corner of my eye, a dark figure flits by on the other side. I make my way to some small, unfamiliar Dublin streets, where I'm not sure if there's anyone around.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Thursday, March 02, 2017
Friday, February 24, 2017
It's always in a crowded place, last time a concert, this time a meeting. I am always a little late arriving. When I get to you, I lean my face against yours, so you can tell me something in my ear. I notice you have blotchy skin, and are quite thin. You tell me something, but I can't make out the words.
Monday, January 30, 2017
I am anxious about my habit of always going naked at gatherings. I went to a small coffee shop to see the star. When I have taken off all my clothes, the place fills up. It's only a small shop. Soon we hear the sound of the star playing and singing, as Donovan appears. He hasn't changed much, a short guy. Everyone in the crowd is encouraged to get up and have their pictures taken. I feel a bit embarrassed. Where did I leave my clothes? They are strewn over two chairs. I put on underpants. "I'm an old hippie," I say.