Category: prose
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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…
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31 Aug: MicroDosing 90µg
Passing Days The days bled together,like watercolour sagging in the rain.She tried to tack them down —a mug’s steam,the slant of three o’clock light —but they wriggled free,slippery as minnows. What lingered was only sensation:a Tuesday’s ghosted-warmth,a Thursday’s pale chill.And the uneasy thoughtthat time was being smuggled forward,hand to hand,like contraband in plain sight —precious,…
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