Creative Writing / 13/10/2020 Grandad’s like me

They’re shouting again, isn’t that fun. I’m hiding again. What a surprise. I’ve always loved this room for hiding. Especially when Mother has people over. The attic-turned-studio has always been warm. You’d think it would be cold, but it’s not. Being up here is like being wrapped in a heated quilt: comforting. But not suffocating....

Creative Writing / 13/10/2020 I’m Yours

i think i’m falling in love I’m canot drowning in an abyss but ascending into heaven, waiting by cupid’s gate closed an instant – waiting for love to come greet it. it feels like a dream, falling in love with you thinking i don’t deserve it – fate hidden in the crevice of my ear...

Creative Writing / 13/10/2020 Please Mind the Gap

LUKE: Mother, how far is it till we arrive?  MARY: I… MARY is interrupted by a manic laugh from SAMUEL, a few rows behind them. He is talking to JOHN. They are both dirty and scruffily dressed. MARY sniffs as she looks about her, and pulls LUKE closer to her.  MARY: I don’t know. It’s...

Creative Writing / 13/10/2020 I Once Tried to Eat a Wasp’s Nest

I once tried to eat a wasp’s nest. The punt at the bottom reminded me of how, the bigger the indent on the bottle of wine, the better it tastes. It had looked quite appetising; I’d skipped lunch earlier. Biting into it was like cracking open the world’s worst Kinder Surprise. The wasps were more...

Creative Writing / 13/10/2020 Home

do i greet you with a yellow blue or pink kiss? soft arms and warm embraces, you taste like home. dirty blonde hair half toned with no great success (it’s the thought that counts) blue eyes melting with specks of gold, your snug gaze planting a kiss on my happiness. Follow Concrete on Instagram to...

Creative Writing / 13/10/2020 Work

Doctors are engineers who work with red oil; Undertakers run hotels where the guests aren’t that fussy; Archaeologists are patient thieves; Tobacco Venders are patient assassins; Regular assassins are the bellboys for the undertakers; Magicians are honest conmen; Chefs are the vet’s version of an undertaker. Like Concrete on Facebook to stay up to date

Creative Writing

Creative Writing

A Walk on the Beach

The beach is my haven, where I can go to remember. I go when my home becomes too full of melancholy memories. Usually they build up slowly, but today the thoughts are unrelenting. Because they’re the impossible ones. The if-only’s, continually questioning me.    I stare at the rectangular box in my hand, the engagement photo…

Creative Writing

A Pier Outstretched into an Ocean

Reached through the ocean, ran through the reef – stopped where the waters turned dark, into the unknowable. We were just kids then: five-, ten-, twelve-year-olds; fingers grasped around the chilled silver railings in front. The wind brought clouds of tortuous form inwards, with full bellies and colours that cracked this spurious visage. We could…

Creative Writing, Venue

Hectic

Hectic. That’s the only word I have for today. Sure, it’s been in the works for months – I signed the agreement weeks ago – but nothing can prepare you for the moment the once empty, internet-trapped room becomes your castle.  Billy cried this morning. He – and I quote – wanted to know why…

Creative Writing, Venue

My Illness Has Teeth

  Debby asked me to keep a tally for the number of cups of coffee I drink per day. I keep the tally in my mind. Three so far today, I think. If decaf counts, then maybe four or five more. If strawberry infused green tea counts, then five or six. Maybe seven. Pushing eight…

#BLM, Creative Writing, Venue

Just Platonic?

There are relationships doomed to suffer, and relationships that make suffering. Like a cop who kisses his gun at night and lays it under his pillow. The only Black he dares to touch is the butt of his precinct-funded revolver; he tends her like a prized cow raised for slaughter, cocking his perverse killing machine….


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