I think it’s fair to say that this week’s challenge has been the most challenging to date. I am judging by the amount of participants who told me the villanelle form had stretched them, as it did me: the first villanelle I wrote did not follow the traditional rhyme scheme, so I had to write…EIF Poetry … Continue reading EIF Poetry Challenge #13: The Results — Experiments in Fiction
a bowlegged woman and a woe betide gent and a worrisome teen with marker pens, come suddenly through the door. Over the rim of his jar, he decides them, "a very rum number indeed."
Constructed mainly from beach twigs, guano and grey weed, a clutch of eke nests clung in the eaves and the guttering and the once-upon-a-time Prussian Blue splintered window frame of the attic. The weed scratched at the glass when the sanded wind blew in off the bay which, between October and May, was always. The … Continue reading Tiny Spines.
The dark public bar of the Eight Kings is daubed, this afternoon, with three broad strokes of sunlight pouring through the windows suffusing everything touched with honeyed shafts, crowning shadows. Reflected in the mirror behind the teak jump, among the faces gathered, the smoke, the bottles, the glasses, a caged and colourful fruit machine trills … Continue reading Into The Light.
i'm looking at death, you're looking at life. but if we could both meet in the middle somewhere then we will both get to live a little. the important thing is genes, i guess. i cry. look at our fingers. *looks at fingers* makes me think about life and death and everything between. we laugh … Continue reading between.
Paul, being her lover, tried, with his voice, to rouse her. She'd liked his voice. But not so much now it seemed. He spoke her name with a frog in his throat. We giggled. Sally did nothing. Then he was nose to the carpet, ear next to her's. He stroked her hair. He spoke her … Continue reading Twice (For Some Reason).
