Category: Six Sentence Story
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24 Aug: A Six Sentence Poem
His Pulse (a Six Sentence Poem) The brush is a nerve,an extensionof the tremor in his soul. He does notthink of sunsetsor heartbreak. His eyesclosed,his minda silent white room,a peg in the wall of memoryholding fragmentshe cannot trust. It is only muscle —the memory in his own arm,it guides the brushstrokes,a twitch becomes a river,a…
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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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18 Aug: Aetherskein – The Liturgy
16 of 27 (Aetherskein) – The Poem – (The Fragment from the Unseen Loom) 16 of 27 The Liturgy for AetherskeinThe Book of 27, Fragment: The Unseen Loom I. The ThreadNot coincidence—a conspiracy of grace.Aetherskein glints where you almost look,where the light bends just so,where the crow drops the same coinin three cities,in three lifetimes,into…
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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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12 Aug: Featherhung – The Liturgy
15 of 27 Featherhung – The Poem – The Fragment: Unfinished Flight I. The Almost-ForgivenNot a wound, but its afterglow —an ash-rose stain between them,where Brigid’s silence hooks Felreil’s wingand his ink pools flat at her feet.They circle the unspoken,two crows with the same bone in their beaks. II. The Crooked LandingA word tilts mid-air:You…
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5 Aug: A Six Sentence Story
Where the Air Remembers Your Name The elves stitched the sunlight wrong that day—threads too gold, too tight — even the trolls’ granite knuckles itched, their slow blood humming something, something. Elverhøj yawned open, just a slit: a shadow slid out, licking the air for old witch-scent. She waited, blind eyes milky as the cave’s…
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30 July: A Six Sentence Story
Flood Floodwater licks the porch — it tastes a memory. A child’s red balloon bobs along the wall’s wet breath … a fridge drifts past like a coffin; forks whisper from inside the drawers. A woman wades through the hallway, her nightgown a pale blossom unfurling as she clutches a dripping photo album, its names…
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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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