Beneath the Innocent Child in Prayer

I wrote this as a competition entry this month. The brief was to write about the discovery of a dead body for any type of character. It was inspired by a morning I spent at the Lady Lever Gallery. There was a meditator but the rest is fiction…

A new project

I can feel the enthusiasm bubble up through my chest and into my cheekbones. I rub my hands together and clasp them close to my beaming face. I burble and chirrup with excitement as I scribble notes about how I’m going to do it and what the steps will be.

The Handkerchief

“Hands, hands, handkerchief!” The woman demands in a Scottish accent. She’s standing next to the chocolate brown painted hand-rail at the top of the stairs and blocking the route down.

Messing about in water

An honourable mention in this month’s writing challenge. The challenge was 250 words featuring something to do with water…

Jane Pickard’s Bicycle

Jane Pickard lived down the road from me as a kid. Her Dad was the local plumber and they lived in a big rambling house that he was refurbishing. The house sat back, across a gently banked field from the lane into the valley. For a time, in the summer of 1980, Jane...

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