Category: Girlie On The Edge
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2 July: A Six – Brigid’s Journal
2 July: Left Scotland last night. Writing under the shadows of the monastic ruins of Lindisfarne, Northumbrian coast – aka Holy Island Arvet i Grönt – The Inheritance in Green The bowl was always there before I was, there resting in my grandmother’s lap like a second sun, heavy with stories it refused to spill.…
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2 July: A Six – Brigid’s Journal (revised)
2 July: Glen Affric, Scotland. Brigid leaves the Highlands with quiet hands and a storm behind her—what she carries now can’t be packed. Brigid Leaves the Highlands Brigid twists Connor’s ring from her finger; it clicks against the wooden table—a sound too small for such a leaving. This isn’t abandonment, it’s an offering to the…
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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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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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23 June: The Book of 27 Liturgy
11 of 27: Drowndusk Liturgy Love Buried Beneath Duty I. The VowDrowndusk does not begin at the altar—it begins at the sink,where two pairs of handswash the same dishand never brush,where “I do” turns slowlyinto “I will.”“I must.” The chains are forged of good intentions,each link a promise:to stay, to care, sacrifice—until the metal grows…
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17 June: A Six – Brigid’s Journal
Brigid’s journal unfolds beneath the Caledonian pines, where light moves differently, and the loch keeps its own counsel: Brigid and the Scots Pinecone – A Soft Geometry 17 June – Glen Affric, Scotland: pencil, paper, watercolour and brushes—dawn’s sun holds a single fallen pinecone in its grasp, and Brigid writes: an offering from the unpainted…
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17 June: A Six Sentence Story
10 of 27 — The Truth Told Too Late She remembers the lime-green hydrangea wallpaper, metallic flecks catching the light like something that failed to be beautiful, and the mirror above the sink—it’s too high for her body, but just right for her face. Felreil sits on the bottom step, still as guilt, watching the…
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12 June: A Six Sentence Story
Hog Trough Confessional I’ve returned to Hog Trough Lane with a secret rewoven from old strands. To hurt is to steal, I said to the boy who once showed me his father’s hog knives glinting in the hayloft —the barn smelled of slop and honeysuckle, and the hogs were grunting hymns as they rooted through…
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10 June: A Six Sentence Story
To Hurt is to Steal The clinic lights hum —guilty, guilty as saints in hiding. The nurse peels back the bandage …to heal is to steal, you whisper it—not to her, but to the wound’s ruby grin, a slow eclipse hoarding your flesh like a miser of moonlight strands. Outside, crows heckle the parking lot, tallying…
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2 June: A Six – The Book of 27
Intro: Some echoes aren’t loud. They linger. This is one of them. 9 or 27 Echobane – (A vow that outlived you) She opens the window, and the wind hops in like a memory—bold, uninvited, wearing his voice like a borrowed coat: I cherish you, it says, like it never once meant I’ll leave you. Felreil stands…
It's Still Life 