The attic was quiet. Night had long slumbered peacefully throughout this silent kingdom. And in its darkness, an archive of passing time had been left undated. Thin slats of light and dampened noise could seldom be observed from below, as dreams of a time spent in movement would become fragmented and obscure. It was peaceful … Continue reading An Attic Story
Category: Odes and people
Stories of people and tributes to the mundane. Some are silly, some are serious.
Afternoon at a Yard of Bricks and Lawn
The heat was pleasant, in the distance of several fence-lines a lawnmower hummed against the melody of a Sunday afternoon. The smell of dry-cut grass, the call of laughter from the park across the road, every piece had been interwoven into a tapestry of the perfect day and its beautiful simplicity was awashed with a … Continue reading Afternoon at a Yard of Bricks and Lawn
The Best Ever Head-butter of the Garuul Plains
Odreck Iron-skull was the best ever head-butter of the Garuul plains. Harking back to the barbaric days fighting for power and food, head-butting as a practice has become somewhat diminished within the conscionable thinkers of a politely modern world, but, as with all games of skill, the sport has proven itself to be somewhat enjoyable … Continue reading The Best Ever Head-butter of the Garuul Plains
Long Way to Monday
Cardy had a long way to Monday. The thoughts of the sepia hued sunset that lived beyond today enriched the penultimate start of another shift and called the moths of revelry to assemble around the lightbulb of hedonism--the slump of Monday morning not yet ordaining to obscure their delusion. Yes, it was hot, yes, the … Continue reading Long Way to Monday
A Fighter
Theo was not a violent man. Well, I mean his love of a fight was as boundless as the will of any person, but there was never any malice in his bones. He fought with pride, a quiet smile on his face and a focus to his eyes that refused to look away from a … Continue reading A Fighter
A Drop of the Sheaf
It’s not on their records. A major brewer, owned by a business, owned by another business, they all have no records of it.A filing cabinet, tucked in behind the dust trap of a forgotten archive holds something resembling a receipt but nothing that mentions where it had come from, what it was sold for. Every … Continue reading A Drop of the Sheaf
A brief ode to the T7
It begins at platform 0:A tacked on extension of necessity in afterthought. In championing the rich history of a twice redundant train line, the laughing throng of suited jacks and polished media shook hands as they announced a specious budget and broke the graded ground below so that construction may begin: workers standing by to tack … Continue reading A brief ode to the T7
Sunday Short Stories 