Creative writing is, for me, both an indulgence and an obsession ignited by my early reading habit and the support of one teacher. His promise to publish the ‘novel’ I started when I was nine, if I finished it, has never been forgotten.
Unfortunately, that story, about two wayward swallows left behind during a migration, got lost itself once the story left England’s shores; something I’d never done myself.
Having started and failed to finish countless other novels, I’ve belatedly come to the realisation that the only way I’m ever going to finish anything is to keep the stories short; a blessing for the reader as well as the writer.
Writing for fun, is both time consuming and harder work than ‘fun’ suggests it should be, but the rewards, in terms of the journeys your imagination takes you on and the laughs (even if no-one else finds Mother Nature funny, I did, and do) are immense. Of course, the ambition of all writers is to be read and, although I’m realistic enough to know that I’m always writing primarily, if not exclusively, for my own enjoyment, the fact that they’re hear in some obscure point on my website, signals that the dream isn’t altogether dead.
If you can be bothered to read any of my creative writing, and I see no reason why you should unless the alternative is a stack of ironing six feet high or emptying the cat litter tray, please do leave a comment. Because creative writing is, ultimately a skill that, like all others, requires both practice and feedback.
Mother Nature (Part 1)
#Humour #Silly #Fantasy #PossiblySlightlyBlasphemous
He waited in line. It was a long line that stretched behind him far into the distance and eventually out of sight around a white corner. But, finally, he was at the front and standing before the familiar door. The light above it was red, but next time it turned green, it would be his turn. He felt both excited and anxious. He hadn’t realised he was so close because he’d spent the last six months standing behind the hulk of a gorilla. A gorilla which, his nose suggested, had died from a stomach complaint.
High
#Weird and Dark
The winner of a Pen48 public vote competition, this was my entry inspired by the picture above.
“Wow. What a brilliantly, crafted story from start to end. The vivid descriptions and excellent dialogue had me hooked throughout. Amazing ending that tied up the story in an unexpected way that was pure genius! Some real truth to the ending too. Brilliant writing.”
I Miss My Neighbour
#Silly #Childish #Verse
I miss my neighbour,
She was eaten by a snake.
She was outside in her garden,
Tap tapping with her rake.
The snake came up behind her,
And bit her on the bum.
It tasted her, and found her good,
I heard it say, “yum, yum.”
Ode to Dieting
#Verse #Nonsense #Humour
It’s that time of year
That I always most fear,
When I notice the size of my bulge.
I know there’s a need
To acknowledge my greed,
And admit that I’ve overindulged.
Lost Soul
#ThoughtProvoking? #ShortStory
It was here that Sarah, barely a woman, never a lady, had screamed, at first in pleasure and later in terror. It was through those windows that she fled that final night, stumbling across the lawn, her bared feet tangling in the dew-soaked hem of her nightdress. Just beyond the furthest tree is where she found freedom at last in the dark recesses of a moonlit lake.
Father Time
#Children’s #Fantasy #OfMiceAndGirls:
Father Time was dead. But it would be hours and hours before the first whispers of concern reached the Department for Secondary Reclamation, where Ruby worked as a Junior Clerk.
She’d been there a month; a long month. She knew she should feel proud to have been chosen to help gather up all the unused, wasted seconds so they could be recycled. But she'd soon discovered that whilst a lot of time is wasted, hardly ever is it not used at all.
Wot, no ears?
#Children’s #ForAdultsToo
Somewhere over there is the sea. And somewhere in the middle of all that water is an island. But don’t tell anyone, because it’s a very secret place and only I, and now you, know about it.
Today, I’m going to tell you about a tiny town on that island called Wot, and about a little boy who lived there, called George. But first, there is something very unusual you need to know about the people of Wot: They had lost their ears.
The Dead Sheep
#Humour #ShortStory
I came home from the city to find a dead sheep on my doorstep. I might have fallen over it, if the porch light hadn’t come on as I walked up the drive and illuminated its bedraggled, spread-eagled form. It might have been sleeping, but for the fact that it was dead. I looked at it. It looked at nothing; its tongue protruding from the side of its mouth.
Dream Blood
#ShortStory #Fantasy
Peel back the bark of the Acemeir tree and you’ll find the faintest traces of a sticky red sap. The ancients called it dream blood and revered the trees for their ability to transport lost souls to a place where they might discover answers, or, more probably, remain lost forever. For some, it held another possibility, and it was this chance, however slim, however brief, that had led to his desperate search.