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Archive for the ‘Short Story’ Category

Each of us is a son or daughter. Most of us are husbands or wives, aunts, uncles, friends, sisters, brothers, colleagues, cousins or neighbours.  Much of who we are and how we interact is defined by these relationships. Do you think that these ties enhance or hinder our existence as human beings? Although we’d like to think [...]

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I woke at 4am, then at 5am, then 7am…Each time, I woke with an ache that filled my whole body. My tee-shirt, soaked in sweat stuck to me and pools of moisture gathered in every bend of my skin. Oh no, I thought, it’s the weekend and a cold is imminent. My breath was laboured [...]

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Writing is a struggle against silence. 
~Carlos Fuentes

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I’m sitting in a bar on the Grassmarket nursing a pint of Peroni. My eyes, swollen with tears attract attention from anyone who either approaches in an attempt to share my table on this busy Friday night or who see me as a potential conversationalist. Neither stop, put off by the red in my eyes [...]

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A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author. 
~G.K. Chesterton

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The fault lay with the wishbone. Thanksgiving dinner was served at the appointed hour and what remained his family sat at the table eager for James to carve the turkey. As he looked across at the faces of his relatives, he felt content. His sister Sally sat across from him next to his nephew Dean. [...]

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The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium. 
~Norbet Platt

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“We write to taste life twice.”

~Anais Nin

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There is a challenge for writers that sooner or later we all have to face. How much of yourself do you reveal in your work? How much is truth and to what degree do you edit, amend and omit to protect the individuals that have been active participants in your inspiration? Since many of us [...]

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As I draw my gaze across the top of the mantle piece, there are items there that say something about me and my home. At the far left, there is a small wooden box. In it, I keep my passport, an expired gym card and a floppy disk whose contents are a long forgotten. Behind [...]

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