Bernie wheezed his way into the pub. He looked over and saw his pal Jamsie sitting at a table in the corner with a half drunk pint of lager. A full pint awaited him. He walked over, slumped down and gulped his drink.
Continue reading “The Girl Of My Best Friend by Hugh Cron – Strong Adult Content”
“Whatcha reading?”
“Moby Dick”
“Yeah, I like that one… read his others?”
The pain jerks me up from the dark, spills bright red across my memory, shakes me in time to the artillery shells exploding around us.
##
Voices, mumbling medical jargon, the hum, and clicking of some electronics, antiseptic smell. Bright, bright too bright, I close my eyes tight.
##
My arm. They amputated my left arm below the elbow. Shit. I reach across my body and touch my new left forearm and hand. A prosthetic, but it feels, feels flesh like, like dead meat.
Yet again, our hearts go out to those effected by events in this sick world!!
***
Something strange happened this week. I laughed and was filled with an ambition. I want to visit Iceland. (Sorry Diane, Adam and all my English friends!!!) I am petty, childish but grateful that this narrow-minded thought came to me as it gave me an idea for this post. Continue reading “Week 80 – Emotions, Pygmies And Paddling Pools”
All around– the city coughed up scorched reminders of life’s inevitable costs. The walking dead. The rag-tag homeless. The diseased and displaced stationed themselves strategically at major corners– and watched the miserable faces of the business suits as they scurried about in the broiling hot sun. New York City rush hour–only the tourists were seemingly immune to the heartless magnetic draw of the subway staircase as they stopped to hear a tale of woe and fish through their pockets for change.
I only hope that we can go a few months without looking at the weeks events with sadness. More tragedy in Orlando with two horrific incidents. Our thoughts are with all involved.
Continue reading “Week 78 – Polls, Slim Whitman And Sloths.”
Tommy lay in the middle of the train tracks looking down between the railroad ties. It was fifty-feet to the shallow river that ran underneath the trestle. A low growl made the wood and metal shudder.
There is only one subject that I could write about for this posting, the heart-breaking news this week of the death of the legend that was Muhammad Ali. Life can be cruel and ironic by reducing a giant to frailty. However, his memory and legacy are as powerful as anything that he ever achieved. His skill, bravery and humanity have all been superbly documented by the world’s press over the last few days.
They recognise each other immediately. At least they think they do – greeting each other with the kind of embrace usually reserved for a reunion, which in many ways this feels like. A few nervous moments pass as they silently try to categorise the person opposite. They both wear name badges and so have no need for formal introductions. They look each other up and down – something normally considered impolite but here it feels acceptable, as though they are merely old acquaintances catching up after a long absence. They share a few jokes about their current predicament, serving as pleasantries before concluding what the other has already concluded.
Hi there folks,
Before we start I have a plea from our very own, lovely Diane Dickson who isn’t looking quite as lovely this week. Diane is the kind lady who is setting up all your wonderful stories. I hate to report that some of our writers, hopefully without realising, are the cause of this. Miss Diane, is at this very moment looking for a wig due to some self initiated hair removal. Yep the poor soul has been tearing her locks out due to tabbing!! Please folks, when submitting do not use them anywhere in your story. Same with indented paragraphs. We know that is a classic writing discipline but when setting up electronically, it can cause problems.
Continue reading “Week 75 – Splish Splash…My Eggs Are Poached And My Hair Is Torn.”
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