He hadn’t moved all afternoon, guitar cradled against his chest. He’d played a note every now and then but mostly he just ran his fingertips along the strings as he watched people pass by below. He peeled its wooden body from his skin as he slouched a little further down on the lounge chair, an... Continue Reading →
Trains and Tutus
Ryan’s heart sinks when he hears the whistle. He hasn’t even reached the escalators yet, there’s no way he’s going to make it. He’ll never live it down if he's late and misses the show. But his feet keep moving forward, over and down the metal steps, too hard to stop once momentum kicks in.... Continue Reading →
Flash: Rooftops
'You can see everything from up here.' I grab for Jimmy's shirt as he leans forward, hips against the ledge and his top half leaning out, looking down to the street three storeys below. 'Geez, Jim. Come on. Quit fooling around.' I yank him back, hard as I can. We have a lot of gear... Continue Reading →
Flash Series #2
Flash Series #2 '..'Babe, why is your shirt on backwards?' Such a simple question. But she didn't have an answer. Not a reasonable, logical answer, other than that was how she'd put it on. Not on purpose, of course...'
Flash Series #1
No one else is awake. It's just me and her. Me sitting on the back step. She crouched in the forest of grass. Black velvet fur. Ears standing straight up and pointed. Her glass bead eyes look like those of my childhood bear. But she isn't a bear. She's a bunny. A wild rabbit. I... Continue Reading →
Writing Journal 17/01/18
FWJ #10 '..You asked me all the places I want to go, and I gave you my list. You asked me why, and I told you. I stared at your face, not hearing a word I was saying...'
Writing Journal 13/01/18
FWJ #6 '.. In the navy room, light from the street lamps frame the curtains, bursting orange and casting shadows across her limbs and curves...'
Writing Journal 09/01/18
Free Writing Journal #2 '...Straight backed, my briefcase resting on my knees, I feel like my father, can imagine him sitting in the exact same chair after getting exact same call. I was never an easy child. I see me when I look at my boy and it makes me cringe. Which makes me feel guilty. Which makes me try harder to do better for him. Which isn't such a bad thing I guess...'
One queer story at a time... 