Love Voinks 👌👍
I seem to have been in somewhat of a Theatre mode these past two weeks. 😀
Something different coming soon; if you have any preferences please feel free to leave a comment. Suggestions are always welcome for short story topics. Thanks for reading.
‘That went well, didn’t it? Apart from the end of course.’
‘Yes, the audience seemed to like it. Made a change for me to play a villain; I haven’t done serious drama since I went to Hollywood.’
‘I know. Quite the famous celebrity now, aren’t you? I remember our first play together, two aspiring young actors, waiting to set the world alight. What made you come back?’
‘Well, at least one of us achieved our ambitions. Shame it didn’t work out for you. What are you doing now?’
‘Bits and pieces. I’ve still got my Equity card and occasionally get work as an extra. After that unfortunate…
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A wonderful piece from Rob Munro.
I don’t write poetry much.
To do so taps depths I fear to tread, making me stare into the abyss for too long.
Her feet might have touched the earth lightly but she grasped my heart with both hands.
I released her to a world she ultimately loved more than anything else, including us.
Dove-like she flew, never to return, keeping a hold on my heart for herself.
This is for her.
Ache of being, place and song echo,
Gentle gestures, a sigh of sunbeams.
Shades and hues, crystaline sparkles,
Dappled blossoms, scintillating swirls.
Embracing laughter, heartbeat racing.
In the mind they live on, breathless,
Their grace rendering ripples
In the fabric of memory.
A gladness in charm,
She could not remember when she had first become sensitive to chemicals. It had crept up on her, a myriad of allergies with varying degrees of severity. Whilst pondering the effect of her most recent symptom, a throbbing, itching sensation all over her body, she felt an impulsive need to lift her arms and push her head towards her armpit. Shuffling in her seat, she pressed her lips against the skin of her forearm and was startled to see rough yellow stubs protruding through her flesh. They looked like feathers and they were growing fast, rapidly covering her whole body, while her feet and legs were growing scales. It did not take long. She reached out a trembling hand for her coffee cup only to realise that long feather fingers could not grasp the cup. With a shudder she jerkily made her way across the room to the mirror. Her legs refused to walk because her brain insisted she hop. Staring into the mirror she looked at herself in horror. The effects of her multiple chemical sensitivities had reached their ultimate conclusion. There she was. A human canary.
Thinning of the veil
Despite the passage of many years, they met every year on the park bench. Their love for each other had never faultered and they cherished those golden moments together. They never questioned each others Love. Their hearts were forever entwined. Every year for fifty years they met at that same park bench and held each other. For those few moments they felt complete. The vale between the two worlds was thin on that day. Spirits could step through into our world to be with their loved ones. She lay her head on his shoulder for another brief moment before he sofly slipped away. Wiping a tear from her eye she sighed and walked home alone. Maybe sometime soon she would pass through the veil to meet him on the park bench in the Spirit world, where they would never again have to part
My short story The Picnic is featured in Flashpoint Anthology https://www.amazon.co.uk/Flashpoint-Circle-Writers-Fiction-Anthology-ebook/dp/B07BB18629/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1522690931&sr=1-1&keywords=flashpoint+anthology