Tuesday 27 October 2015


Writers' Group exercise. 10 minutes: The visitor. Who or what came to the house and what did they take, or leave? 

In the mirror. There. Quick. See it? No. Just shadows - reflections from the window-prisms, sunlight dancing in the early evening. The sun is low on the horizon, the sky is blood-orange and the reflections are strange in my mirror.

Put the light on. Bold halogen from the ceiling to crush prism-light with its harsh and unforgiving glare. In the mirror nothing changes. Still reflected rainbows pulse behind the glass.

Peer into the depths. What? What's there? Who's there? Shadows lengthen, indigo-blue-green sparkles out into the room.

Touch the glass. Cold; soft - yielding. Ripples from a pebble. Hand, arm, body. Life.

Step through.

Saturday 10 October 2015

What Somebody Wants

Writers' Group exercise. 10 minutes: Write the opening of a story/poem where a character wants something....

He heard the door click shut, a fraction of a second before something poked him in the flesh just below his left ear.

He froze, hands poised on the handle of the filing cabinet. "Can I help you?"

"I don't know," a voice replied. Male - an overweight smoker by the sound of his breathing. "Can you?"

"The club is closed."

"Don't seem to bother you much," the stranger replied.

"I work here."

"Oh? You have a problem with the lights, then?"

The thing in his neck jabbed harder. A gun? Probably. He sighed. "What is it you want?"

"The same as you, I suspect," said the stranger. "I'm just better prepared. Now open the drawer."