Short stories of the land and moments that occur without words.
Tree-lined and hemmed by footpath, Oxley Lane awoke to a bluster of wind drawn from the mountains and caught the faint drops of dew-frost in its passing. Gumnuts, past blossom and dry from the winter’s retreat, are shaken from their branches and fall, softly dropping upon the parked cars below, the hollow ding against windscreen … Continue reading Oxley Ln
In the fading light of nocturne, a muddy-green sky is painted above a lonely valley while the dim air of Autumn below grows humid and pure.Within the gloom there begins a memory. Patch-marked trees were hung wearily with stillness as their drooping branches lay heavy and low; the rolling bluster of day at last faded, … Continue reading A Mosquito
‘Well then.’ Ash mumbled to the sight of her freely falling double bass and the confluence of varied emotion that tumbled away alongside it.Anger, a primary colour in the blind-patchwork quilt of her feelings, bubbled and broiled in forefront. Every hour of today, wasted. Every minute that she had spent lugging that impossible instrument up … Continue reading A Bass Rolling Down a Hill
The rain softly falls upon ancient bricks and day takes on a melody rarely seen within these Eastern Steeps. A pattern of droplets tentatively fall to the ground and paint a portrait of spots across the small courtyard, slowly giving life to the canvas of moss and ancient brickwork that has rested untouched for time … Continue reading A Song of Rain
The wind had left us. The Earth, halted in its celestial arc, sighs, knowing that memory will be trapped in the hollowness of this new absence.It once walked with us, this gentle wind; through sprawling history and as far as time can unwind upon itself, the wind has played parts in both mundane and monolithic. … Continue reading The Absent Wind
A single stone sat upon the edge of a distant shoreline and contemplated existence. Surrounded by a panoptic wreath of sea and sand, the outward world felt expanding and almost unending: like a single needle placed into a pin-cushion, as if a lone dot was struck upon a canvas; the stone would think of distance … Continue reading A Single Stone
Beer in a wine glass and the warm summer sun that bakes down upon the frosted surface of an outdoor dining table. Four chairs sit casually around this table, each in turn covered by a faded pinstripe plastic--once green and now only washed by rain and sunlight; they grow tacky under the heat of the … Continue reading Beer in a Wine Glass
I saw it, perfectly resonant within utmost clarity. Criss-crossed lines of overpolish glow luminescent behind the last draught of ale as my tipped glass catches the sun, refelcting in golden radiance.A late-Autumn wind ambles through the sky and appears to almost steal the daylight from the air as it passes, following the sun’s dip below … Continue reading Clarity through the base of a glass
Left corner just by the fridge: the aspidistra sits quietly, an undying phoenix of pot plant regalia and evergreen staple of apartment decor; this plant, though never truly blending into its position, has been shuffled across the many diffrent corners, of hundres of apartments, more frequently than a game of chess played with only one … Continue reading The migatory habbits of the housebound pot plant
Sunday Short Stories 