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28.10: A Six – SSC&B The Heist
The Heist (episode 5) Dinner with the Soup Gobbler “I took it from a reclamation yard on the East Side,” the Soup Gobbler says when Chris admires the long wooden table, dark and scarred enough for a medieval feast; “you mean an antique shop,” says the gargoyle on the left, grinning, “you filched it from…
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27.10: Six Sentence Story
Of Wood and Biblichor la bibliothèque – l’Université de Montpellier It’s a strange wistfulness, old libraries. Outside, the heat made the cobbles seem to rock underfoot, and sometimes the sun struck my eyes so directly that I went momentarily blind; but inside, the air was cool and loose, light met the floor at different angles,…
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27.10: Dead Men Don’t Drown
Dead Men Don’t Drown: #12 (catch-up with all episodes here) I obey the conservator for exactly twenty-three minutes, which is long enough to find an old manila envelope, write DO NOT OPEN on it in block capitals, and place the spiral lock inside as though firm handwriting has ever saved a woman from herself. The…
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26.10: The Liturgy
Liturgy #12 for the Name She Has Never Heard(or for the toast burnt twice, and the ring that tells a stranger’s story) I. The Lock She Does Not OpenThe conservator’s voice stays with her.Do not open it, not yet, not like this,and so she does the hardest thinga curious woman can do. She protects her…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Grimalkin(Or: A Philosophical Pause Before Sardines) The old woman holds her head in her hands,as if gravity might roll away with it. The cat looks out the window,places one paw delicately against the glasslike a tiny, furry philosophercontemplating the infinite. “Look, Old Woman,” he says,“it’s autumn.It’s too early to be…
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24.10: Stream of Consciousness
It’s stormy. Windy. Rainy. Well, windy is putting a British edge on the word; it’s 75mph gusts and 50mm of rain in twelve-ish hours or so, rain going sideways, upwards occasionally by the look of it, although technically I suppose that’s still downwards eventually, everything comes down eventually, except perhaps petrol prices — not my…
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24.10: Everywhere Poems
Periphery The world rarely arrives whole.A horn.Tyres on wet tarmac.A crow.Heat lifting from stone.The rest,we quietly build. Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up. Some images created with Midjourney, some are not; all writing…
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Ten Things of Thankful
A week of resilience in ordinary things. Rain returns. Numbers behave. A crow keeps me company. A storm tests the house. Summer is folded away. Creativity finds another instrument. Sussex reminds you where home is. Two stories keep moving. A passport arrives. The roof holds. I. Rain Again Thankful for two days of rain and…
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23.10: Everywhere Poems
Where the Tide Has Gone I. The wind sings,weathering ribs of wood,shadows comb their fingersthrough the sand. Beyond, the sea lieswhisper-flat and silver, as though the moon has drawn itfrom the land. II. These old posts keepvigil at the shoreline,holding memoriesof every vanished tide, and somewherepast the quiet rim of evening,water waitsfor heaven to turnthe…
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22.10: A Thursday Door
Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the way to share my love of doors — of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my photos and found a few to share. Bushboy (Brian Dodd) also shares photos of doors from his his journeys. ©Misky 2022-2026 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion
