My Brother's Keeper.
June 27, 2017
October 10, 2016
Angels And Demons.
October 5, 2016
I Will Listen.
October 4, 2016
September 17, 2016
August 13, 2016
The Ghost of Veterans House.
July 7, 2016
July 3, 2016
Son of a Witch.
June 18, 2016
They lie a bit.
June 7, 2016
My Grandad’s old school held an exhibition in remembrance week, focusing on all the old pupils who had fought in the armed conflicts of our country. I...
"REMEMBER LAST NIGHT." A short story.
November 11, 2014
April 28, 2016
‘What are you doing?’ said Busy Bee, as Mr Lizard lounged by the home pond.
‘We are hunting.’ He politely replied, ‘a rare creature of which we’re not fond.’
‘What creature is that?’ said the pretty Bee, leaving a fine cloud of nectar.
Lizard looked around lowered his voice, ‘some say it might be a spectre.’
‘Don’t say it out loud,’ shivered Toad, ‘it might come and take us away.’
‘What does it do? this ghostly fiend, to scare you all through the day.’
‘It follows our words, our thoughts and deeds and then it makes its attack.
Whatever we write, it makes us take fright, by leaving its spiteful feedback.’
‘So what is it called?’ said Busy aloud, ‘this frightful scary creature.
Nothing scares me, just let me meet it, show it my favourite feature.’
‘What’s that?’ said Frog, sprawled on a log, enjoying the start of spring.
Busy turned around, buzzed and frowned, showing the boys her sharp sting.
‘You’ll have to catch it first,’ said Mr Liz, quietly gazing out at the pond.
‘Lay a trap you see, your words it hunts, then it might just correspond.’
‘What is it called? so I know what I seek,’ said Busy with a slight shudder.
‘I will say it once and once alone,’ whispered Toad, ‘it’s called a Flopthudder.’
‘What’s a Flopthudder? buzzed Busy Bee, ‘how would you best describe it?’
‘A creature that’s sly, in water or sky,’ said Toad, ‘it thinks it’s a great wit.
Silvery slimy, dripping with Malice, two great teeth at the front.
It writes its bile with those dripping fangs, it poison is being totally blunt.
Eyes like slits of darkest green, wrinkling frowns of malice.
It lays its traps, builds its word maze, like a latter day Daedalus.
Its body pockmarked, scarred from its fights, it calls them badges of pride.
Puss and sores, weep from its pores, its purpose to always divide.’
‘A frightening creature,’ agreed Mr Lizard, gazing out on the pond.
He saw a ripple, out in the water, a twitch and a shuddering frond.
He gripped Toads arm, let out a big ‘hush,’ watched the water keenly.
‘Did you write today?’ he asked his friend, ‘any words that were nasty or meanly.’
‘I write everyday,’ said Mr Toad, ‘I like to share my craft.
Creative writing clears my head, my work always autographed.
I have nothing nasty to say, that’s why I send it, out into the great ether.
This new technology called the butterfly net, to my writing I do bequeath her.’
‘That’s what the Flopthudder, likes to see, it feeds off what makes you mad.’
‘Tis true,’ said toad, if I get snarky comments, it always makes me so sad.’
‘How do we stop it?’ said Busy Bee, ‘do we return its nasty attack.’
‘That’s what it wants,’ said Mr Lizard, ‘an argument no going back.’
‘Does the Flopperthudder, write its own stuff? creatively,’ said Mr Toad.
‘Of course not,’ said Lizard, ‘with no original thoughts, is the creature at all bestowed.
It waits for you to open your heart, pour out your own special feelings.
Then it attacks, with a sinister smile hopes to leave you bleeding.’
They heard a sly laugh, looked to the pond, the Flopthudder had broken the surface.
It was reading Toads words, let out a curse, that made them feel especially nervous.
‘What is it doing?’ cried Busy Bee, as the Flopthudder’s teeth came out like a bayonet.
‘It’s preparing to snark, write out its bile, post it out on the butterflynet.’
‘We must stop it,’ cried Frog, as he slipped of his log, ‘I am ready to go and do battle.’
‘The best thing to do, is ignore its vile stew,’ said Lizard, ‘ignore tittle tattle.’
Toad looked at the butterfly net in his hand, sought out the horrible comments.
Treated them with disdain, the Flopthudders game, ‘I refuse to dignify this nonsense.’
Busy Bee flew high, advanced from the sky, extended her lethal sting.
‘Don’t use it,’ cried Toad, ‘it’s what Flopperthudder wants, your end is what it will bring.’
Busy Bee came back, looking quite sheepish, ‘I am sometimes such a dunce.’
Lizard chuckled a while, said ‘you’re excused but remember, you can only sting the once.’
‘The Flopthudder tries, to harm you at times, killing you little by little.’
Said Toad as he watched, the Flopthudder surface, penning its terrible riddles.
It’s back gleaming wet, with blackened old slime, it cast out onto the butterfly net.
Comments so barbed with which to do harm, no mercy for those it upset.
‘How do we stop it?’ said Frog beside his log, ‘I have the urge to floor it.’
‘Don’t waste your hops, the Flopthudder flops, if we completely and always ignore it.’
Said Lizard as he turned and let go of his words, closing the butterfly net.
‘No audience hurts him, more than we can, his words then we always forget.’
The Flopthudder cruised by, eyes to the sky, ‘I am entitled to vent my opinion.’
‘You certainly are,’ said Lizard from afar, ‘but keep out of our little dominion.
No response you’ll get here, never a tear, for we all await your downfall.
My granny Lizard always said, if you cant say something nice, don’t say anything at all.’
The Flopthudder did scream, ‘you’re all just so mean, why wont you bite on my comments.’
Toad laughed and danced, Busy Bee was entranced, ‘we’re not interested in your vile written contents.
Go away you old bore, we all wish you well, on your lonely long life’s journey.’
To the sound of the friends laughs, the cry of the attention seeker, ‘you’ll be hearing from my attorney.’