1Where do you start? In the hollow of a shoulder blade? Or the nape of the neck where fine hairs trace a pattern? His tongue licking, tasting the salt of her skin, delicate and light so it tickles and she…to read more click here.
Sackcloth and ashes
2Pulling the brush through her curls, trying to untangle them, she stopped, drew her hair back sharply from her face, and stared at the black smudges beneath her eyes, the hollows in her cheeks, her pale… to read more click here.
South – a script
3Open on a MODEL BOAT which widens to show a yard sale in progress in front of a white clapboard house. There is a CAMPER VAN and a thirty foot CABIN CRUISER in the drive.. to read more click here.
Tales From a Campsite
4There were so many cloudless days they ran into each other like a stream of blue handkerchiefs knotted by the night. Rose would wake to the heat of the sun as it filtered through the canvas… to read more click here.
The Bench (love untold) They look at him without committing ‘Is he one of the them,’ they wonder, ‘or just one of ‘them’?’ Their dogs lie quietly, in the absence of malice He, with his book, sits at one end of the bench chewing on the world, as much on its discrepancies as its gods of light …
When they arrived at the shop it appeared to be closed. The doors were pulled to and the windows were shuttered. Louisa pressed her face against the windowpane and peered through. ‘She can’t be closed,’ she said pulling her face away and leaving smudges on the glass where her nose and lips had pressed, although she knew perfectly well …
Life is odd at present. The winds of change. My life is up in the air and yet I feel at peace just letting myself be blown this way and that. Not knowing where I’m going to end up. I feel very creative. I’ve been reading some good writing and nothing is more inspiring. Recently I watched the film Julia …