Category: At an Intersection
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19 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
16.1 of 27 – Aetherskein: The Fragment: The Unseen Loom The Shape of a Word 19 August: Back home at an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint: Brigid opens her journal to a fresh insert — thread-stitched, soft as confession — and when the pen touches cotton paper, a single drop of…
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19 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
16 of 27 – Aetherskein: The Fragment: The Unseen Loom Journal Entry: Beachy Head — 18 August, maybe 19, the moon doesn’t care Where the Thread Ends Twice A ribbon slips ashore at Brigid’s feet — opal-lilac, sea-soaked, old as plague-song — and the tide murmurs her name wrong, like someone remembering it from a…
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13 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
15 of 27: Featherhung – The Fragment: Unfinished Flight The soundtrack comes first this week: Best read with this music stitched to its unfolding glyph. Broken Dreams By Milad Ghavipanje. Part 4: Lindisfarne, Holy Island, 7th Century Brigid hunched over her desk — a slab of bog oak, black as a raven’s throat — when, halfway…
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22 July: A Six Sentence Story
14.2 of 27 – Driftspire: Lindisfarne – Before dawn, dreaming Part 3: Driftspire’s Tidemark Brigid dreams in crow-black ink and saltwater glyphs — names she realises she wrote herself, now unspooling like psalms soaked through by rain. Felreil stands at the edge of her sleep, voice soft as worn vellum: “Of course you dream this…
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21 July: A Six Sentence Fish Story
MicroDosing: 55µg – The Depth of Blue-Grey Cold Year on year, that trout knew the river’s elbow-turn. Its icy thieving bite at bait. The humming tone of my father’s hook circling the same blue-grey crook of curved water. Depth was measured in patience. He’d cast and recast, quiet as the current. And the water, full…
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16 July: A Six – The Book of 27
14 of 27: Driftspire – a Colour once felt, not seen—The Joy of Being Completely Unknown 16 July – Lindisfarne: Holy Island, Northumberland – low tide, salt breath, sheep for company PART 1: (6 Sentences) 14 of 27 — Driftspire: The Joy of Being Completely Unknown The North Sea sleeps at low tide, and Brigid…
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9 July: A Six Sentence Story
13 of 27 – Stillrift: Peace Earned from Ruin Let It Become Weather It didn’t feel like peace when it came—just the absence of argument, like a room forgetting your name. That night, Felreil appeared as a crow on the footboard of Brigid’s bed, dropping black stones onto her feet—each one etched with a word…
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1 July: A Six Sentence Story
12 of 27: Frostwrit – Affection Behind a Locked Jaw The Egg Song “Easy, be gentle, my girl,” her grandmother says, eyebrows knitting into a single grey line, “and remember what I taught you this morning — focus, centre yourself — now be quick, or she’ll peck your eyes out.” “Mothers will do that,” the…
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30 June: Frostwrit – The Liturgy
12 of 27 – Frostwrit – The Poem – Affection Behind a Locked JawA liturgy in six verses I.The Invocation of Knitted BrowsA grandmother’s voice stitches the air—a grey thread pulled tight between fear and fury.The hen’s feathers are not snow.They are the first frost,and the girl is learning to walk on ice. II.The Hiss…
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24 June: A Six Sentence Story
11 of 27: Drowndusk – Love buried beneath duty A Six Sentence Requiem Elira’s hands move through dishwater like archivists—scrub, rinse, stack; across the kitchen, Jonan sits sidewise at the table, lost in the morning newspaper, sipping coffee that’s as smooth as the wedding band she never takes off. Felreil doesn’t hide in the shadows;…
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