Stranger in the Park

Stranger in the Park

It is autumn, cold and crisp. A playful wind rides the swings. A young girl stands in the park, her hands deep in her pockets. She is watching, listening, waiting. Rusty chains creak, holding onto swinging seats.  A brisk, westerly wind drags dark, heavy-laden clouds...
Rustling Leaves and Flying Arrows

Rustling Leaves and Flying Arrows

How does a short story materialise? It’s Autumn, and I thought it would be good to walk in the woods and listen to the sounds with a view to writing them down. At lunchtime, I strolled through the woods near my house, notebook in hand. I listened to the movement of...
Flying Pigs on the Summit

Flying Pigs on the Summit

“It’s impossible, can’t ever be done!” “Why not!” Simon replied. “I mean … you couldn’t move this mountain, could you? You’re gullible if you believe all the stuff it says in that book. You’ll be saying next that pigs can fly!” I laughed, and looked up at the sky. I...
Presence in the Cavern

Presence in the Cavern

The object seemed cylindrical and protruded out from the blackness of the cave entrance. It shimmered with light, and yet was not solid. Geoff felt the wind on his beard, moving him, swirling around him, examining him, before he noticed it moving the object,...