Another short story from the hip. Fenstone’s Flower Fenstone was in his favourite pottering spot for a not quite warm, though there be some sunlight day. He had finished washing the Saturday breakfast crockery and cutlery, scraping down the plates of scrambled egg residue and croissant crumbs. This was Peggy and Fenstone’s Saturday morning treatContinue reading “Fenstone’s Flower”
ScrapsYard.com | Congratulations | Forward this Picture Here is another short story completed for the exercise of completion. This tale developed in response to a balloon in a florist’s van. I’m also love to hear your ideas for story prompts. Please share them with me by dropping a line below. Hand-tie Harry arrives at 11amContinue reading “Another short story”
During the first months of posting on my blog in 2012, I opened this short piece with a reminiscence about the red creepers that draped my undergraduate university during autumn. I went on to comment on the dark evenings that enclose this season in the Northern hemisphere — I tweet much more when I’m inContinue reading “It grows ever darker: autumn evenings”
“Leo’s Entries” is one of two poems written last year in the format of journal entries by respected (male) authors. The other was “Philip’s Log“. Both poems were part of a year long project which culminated in a book, In the Ocean: a year of poetry.
There is a well-known Afrikaans short story Die Gog (The Thing) about an unidentified creature nursed and doted upon by a couple. The thing (die gog) is kept in a box, feed and protected. Eventually the couple’s mutual obsession destroys their relationship. This serves as an imagined prelude to the un-dramatic domestic tragedy of DieContinue reading “The Visit, or The Arrival of the Thing”
A short story from some time ago: It is a long climb up the stony mountain, through biting mists and pounding midday sun. From the crevices mountain flowers cheer the weary and tumbling water droplets happily refresh those travellers who whisper of their thirst. The higher the climb, the more the climber’s bones and musclesContinue reading “The Faint Smell of Jasmine”
In a couple of future posts, I shall be sharing some longer pieces of writing that have been gathering dust. Fear not, the poems will continue to be around. Dear readers, I hope that you’ll enjoy all the words on offer. Yours, BQ — T: @BeadedQuill F: BeadedQuill Books by BeadedQuill
Looking Back at Cuttings and Proteas: a log entry about growth and development Two years and 217 posts ago the BeadedQuill blog was born. On 15th June 2013, after decades of hiding my fiction writing in notebooks, I decided to share it with the wider world. To my 123 signed-up blog followers, I say aContinue reading “Happy 2nd birthday, blog!”
In our lifetimes, most of us will never preside over a court on a throne. Yet in death, some have been commemorated at a special spot with a dedicated bench. In the woods, gardens and parks I visit, I often stop to read the plaques and imagine the lives of the loved ones described. This poem, “BenefactorContinue reading “Seen from the bench”
From this time last year: an essay about a painting of Covent Garden rooftops. The image triggered a series of personal memories about school art history lessons and my ‘London Granny’.