The yellow-lensed glasses lifted her mood. In the dank, dark days of January they were her life-saving ‘go to’. First…
The storm drives rain against the window, turns to hail cracking against the glass, elbowing its noisy rudeness into her…
‘Fish again?’ The child turned his nose up, disgust writ large on his fat-cheeked face. Maree dolloped a small serving…
‘What do we do now?’ Robert’s voice was edgy, angry. The little boat floated further out on the rising waves.…
Sunshine, at last. Winter was finally retreating, creeping its way southward to fill the antipodeans’ lives with chill and wet.…
The poet was having a bad day, and a worse night. He couldn’t find a word, an image, a rhyme…
Open your hand is one of two parts of today’s prompt, taken from Sylvia Plath’s works.The other is And dissolve…
The rain had stopped, leaving a translucent fogginess as a reminder of its presence. He peered out the window, debating.…
He knew she wouldn’t come. Not because of the weather. They had walked in far worse than this, whispering their…
And we are at the end! Longish today but all wrapped up. Sophie swung about, heart thumping. An enormous green…