Category: prose
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16 Sept: dVerse Prosery
Sulphur and Silence The city never learned how to be quiet — Elias liked it that way; the noise smothered his wife’s laugh. He sat in his worn armchair, the one she always called a mistake, watching the world blur past his third-floor flat. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes moved…
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16 Sept: Liturgy for Cindertide
The Book of 27, The 20th Glyph: Cindertide – Anger that forgot what it was fighting I. The First FlameIt begins sharp—a flash of fire with a name, a face, a reason.This is for the child I lost,for the cradle I never filled,for the syrup I will never pour.But fury is a poor craftsman.It builds…
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12 Sept: The Women of Lafitte’s
A Short Story The Seamstress She leans into the clatter of the machine, foot steady, hands coaxing fabric through with a tenderness that belies the harsh steel needle. The air is heavy, close — thick with the sweetness of cotton dust and the metallic tang of oil. Outside, New Orleans sweats; inside, she stitches against…
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11 Sept: Ink In Thirds
100 Word Wednesday: prompt – image of an open palm The girl shrank from the compliment, as if it shone too bright. Her grandmother’s eyes — the weight of ages. “There once was a chalice,” she said, “cracked, scarred by flame, hollow with longing, and when the rain descended, the chalice turned aside. ‘I am…
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9 Sept: A Six Sentence Story
The Book of 27: #19 – Starvow: The Unspoken Vow The Cartography of Brigid In the hush before sunrise, Felreil remembers her — not as a person, but as light. A quiet kind of love — like the sound of a wave inhaling before it breaks, or rain sighing against warm skin — the kind…
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8 Sept: Starvow – The Liturgy
19 of 27 – Liturgy for Starvow: The Silent Exchange I. The GreetingNot a vow spoken,but a pulse exchanged —a light in an east-facing window,answeredby a presence in an old oak tree. It is a dawn ritual with no name,a breath they lend to silence,a space made sacredonly because they both tend it. II. The…
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5 Sept: dVerse Cinquain
Silent Sky (a cinquain poem) So still,the heavens wait —a canvas drawn with hush,its blue skin pulled across the day.Don’t breathe. A cinquain, syllable count 2-4-6-8-2, written for dVerse Poets . Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without…
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6 Sept: MicroDosing 60µg
The key turns.The lock clicks. The air inside smells of much-loved books and lemon soap she used this morning. Her shoulders drop, a weight she hadn’t realised she was carrying — her handbag slides to the floor. “I’m home,” she whispers to the quiet, and the quiet, for the first time all day, whispers back.…
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2 Sept: dVerse Haibun
The Holding Breath To the 204 men and boys of the 1862 Hartley Colliery disaster — their breath drifts still, coal-dust caught in morning’s blacklung frost. They crawled into the narrow seams where lanterns barely held back the dark, where the air strangled itself thin. We remember the steel-to-stone rhythm of their pickaxes, the hunger-click…
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2 Sept: Mirebright – The Liturgy
18 of 27 Mirebright – The Poem – The Unaccounted-For I. The GlintNot a star —but a false dawn where hope dies,a light that clings to an unrepentant cheeklike a child’s kiss on a rusted blade.You hope anyway.You love despite. Mirebright is whispered even when no one’s listening. II. The Hollow ChestCompassion aches here —not…
It's Still Life 