• Stories, poems, haikus or lyrics added daily by one of our seven writers in 99 words or less!

Monday, 30 November 2009

An Apology for the Monsters

Dear Japan

I was sorry to hear about the string of attacks by over sized monsters and beasts during the twentieth century. I know it’s of no real consolation as we, the rest of the world, have never been effected by these ‘horrific events’ never the less, you have our deepest sympathy and we’ll be praying for a happy twenty-first century.

With kindest regards

The Rest of the World.

P.S Sorry again about Hiroshima

Saturday, 28 November 2009

Michaela's letter...

“You know, some people think lighthouses are to keep people from the shore. To guide them past, to other places, with their light. But I know that’s not true. I know the lighthouses are trying to draw people in. They’re lonely, you see. The lonely lighthouses. Nobody seems to notice but me. And that is one of the reasons why I’m different.”

Friday, 27 November 2009

The Dream Maker

That black and shiny box, so full of promise.Dream and adventure, limitless possibilities.
You can be a hero, master of your art.
Power you never knew.
Bring death, destruction and glory,
Or skill they've never seen before.
Escape to new worlds. No complications.
The power is all in your hands.

Thursday, 26 November 2009

The Heart

I held my heart in my hands. I watched the blood cake beneath my fingernails and meander in trails down my forearms. The valves tightened and pulsed with every beat. It flaked away like crimson sand. I let it run carelessly between my fingers.

Wednesday, 25 November 2009

Absolutely Mulled

Deep red in a cup. The cold air pushing steam into my nostrils. Vinegar and Cinnamon. Music of long forgotten musicians preach to me about how 'there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas.' A fact I'm sure they'll be eternally grateful for. I sit there in November annoyed at myself for indulging them with my presence. Cynical but merry. Secretly revelling in the cool warmth of the atmosphere.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009


I was born taller than the others. Since I was young, I always felt more important. But I was always alone. As if to show I didn’t care, I laughed at eu, je and ich, all the time, when they came around. Then, one day, I went abroad and realised I was not that relevant. So I sat in the corner and I cried “Ooooo”. So big fat O came and said I should be humbler. I blushed and became i. But that was just for a second. Then, I got up and said “O,U...”

Monday, 23 November 2009

The Triumphant Three Tense.

I was beaten to the floor. As I get to my knees I catch my breath. And when I finally reach my feet, I will stand triumphant.

Saturday, 21 November 2009


An arrow
cuts through the mess
and blood trickles out.
I am alive
and gasping,
pulse racing
as my feet move over the
cobbles without fear.
There's no chance we're getting out of here
without tearing off skin.

Friday, 20 November 2009

Final Thought

They are everywhere.
We don't know how they spread so fast. So many!
But here we stand, our final moments.
They scream so wickedly.
Sharks that smell blood, It will not be long.
Was this intended?
No other fate matters now.
We hear them.
See their shadows flicker and dance.
Evil man cannot invent.
Cruelty that smiles.
That mocks.
The door will not hold long.
They are everywhere.

Thursday, 19 November 2009

The Job

Is this what I want?
Turn the pages of my resume over in my hand.
Pace the hall in uncomfortable shoes.
Click click click click.
Look at unfamiliar surroundings.
I don't belong here.
I don’t belong in these clothes.
This office.
Is this what I want?
Not at all.
I am a writer.
I am not a member of the rat race.
Apologize: sorry, this is not for me.
Turn around and leave.
Click click click click.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

Poem for the Sole

Speak in words that no-one else understands,
Show me the lines on your hand,
Meet me in the place where we only know,
And sit with me in silence.

Tuesday, 17 November 2009


Only in your arms

Could the ball believe

To be the size of the world.

Only in your eyes

Could we see the world

As an untouched garden.

Let us water your garden,

Let us feed on the perfume

You left for us.

A fragile majority

Wishes to preserve your name

As petals in books.

(for Robert Enke, 1977-2009)

Friday, 13 November 2009

He'll walk down to the quiet spot at the end of the platform, where no one else ever ventures. He'll kneel on the floor. Breathing it in. The steam, that rich green frame, the noise as she breathes, eager to be let loose, to reign in the open countryside. Here, he becomes free, the world can't catch him. The loan repayments, his blood pressure, tomorrow’s 8am start, the forgotten birthdays, the day she left. All the pains and problems of his life can only wait at the station door. They daren't approach him when he's near her.

Thursday, 12 November 2009


The library was filled to the rafters with shelves lined with books – original publishings, autographed copies, and novels that had long been forgotten by the public.
He settled in the armchair in front of the fireplace, placing a warm mug of tea on the table. The rug beneath him tickled his feet as he opened the chosen tome.
Where had he left off?
Oh yes, right... here.
His experienced eyes ran eagerly over the softly aged pages.
The world around him evaporated like the steam from his tea.

Wednesday, 11 November 2009

Your Hand

“I remember holding your hand, smooth with the cold. It was small and bony. It didn't feel like yours anymore. We walked along the beach talking about the past and pretending there was a future. Somewhere along the way, your hand pretending to be someone else's, abandoned it. It didn't matter because I still had you there. We searched until you were too tired. Until I had decided I had wasted enough time looking for something.. something that only matters to me now that I have forgotten what your hand used to feel like.”

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

A Dog

I wish I were a dog. No pedigree. No fancy collar. Just a dog, digging holes, wagging the tail as a smile unfurled.

I would bark. That means no words, which means no lies.

I would run through the fields, regardless of clothes or manners. All I wanted was a family. And open space.

I wish I were a dog, instead of a man. That way, I could be much prouder of my species.

Monday, 9 November 2009

Moving on.

A man was too scared to travel over water.
Eventually he built a bridge and got over it.

Sunday, 8 November 2009

Remembrance Day

The ground below my feet is red
not red from blood
but flurries of poppies
descended from above

Each poppy a soul
a person with a name
I do not know
we've never met before

One on my shoulder
two on my head
gently resting and beckoning
making me aware of lives frailty

Many questions come to mind
who are you
where did you come from
what happened to you

Perhaps we've met before
or shall we meet
my feet won't move
they're surrounded

Winds blow briskly
poppies flutter into the air
gathering speed
and they are gone until another year.
until another year

Friday, 6 November 2009


Alone again, left again. To the big comfy spot then. That thing they've left on makes noise. I prefer the quiet. To sleep, a long and...what was that? There?! Again, more?! And louder still! To the door, its shut. Attack! Scratch it, harder, those noises what are they? To the window, I saw one! And another, they're everywhere! So great and bright and terrifying, that loud boom so powerful! Will those things come for me? Quick, behind the chair, breathing heavy, so thirsty, but the water bowl - too risky! I hope they come back soon.

Thursday, 5 November 2009

Bonfire Night

The air is acrid. Sky on fire. Boom. Fireworks burst and we "ooh" and "aah" as if we have never seen such a display before.

A child carrying a guy. Lifeless. Legs dangling over his shoulders. Red embers rain towards the ground. Fizzle. The boy's face lights up. He has never seen such a display before.

His parents come. Scolding. Why did you go so far away? His mother takes the boy's little hand. The finale. Whistle. Pop. Sizzle. Dad is unsteady. One too many. Car doors slam. They will never see such a display again.

Wednesday, 4 November 2009


In a box made of tin that smells chocolatey I sit. Sit for an eternity. Waiting to be shook about. The cool night sky. I stand looking up at the world of stars before me. I can't wait to meet them all. A white light. My life flashes before me. Silence. I scream. Total euphoria as I rise above it all. The stars are too far to touch as I reach out my fingertips. Bang. And there I am a million pieces. Debris of a short but contented life. The crowd gasp in awe.

Tuesday, 3 November 2009


Boom. The sudden sound. A dream. Gunpowder’s power, more beautiful than anything. A guy? Well, not just a guy. A sorcerer. Turning light into one gorgeous end. Boom. All over. “The world would be wonderful, they say”. A night to remember. To make “The Queen is dead” more than just a record by The Smiths. The Queen, the King, never mind… All that matters is… Boom. Scary? Nah… Beautiful! Imagine fireworks instead of nuclear bombs. Climbing up to Heaven rather than dropping from Enola Gay. Remarkably drawn pictures of the future. And then… Boom. That was all, Fawkes.

Monday, 2 November 2009

Remember, remember.

I am Guy Fawkes
And I tried to kill the king
Close but no cigar

You all know my name
And commemorate my death
I am Guy Fawkes

It just goes to show
Celebrity is timeless
You all know my name

You all know my name
And you’ll all be forgotten
Close but no cigar.

Sunday, 1 November 2009

Settling Down

Pine and spruce
green and lush
sweltering in sunshine
growing by moonlight

Weather is strange
should be cold
with winds and storms
rains and floods

Garden still growing
no sign of decay
the fence needs some painting
the gate an adjusting

Soon it is time
to use the wand
to signal the garden
"Just let is be"

Allow Mother Nature
to work magic powers
on cold winter months
invite chill winds
to cover the ground

Prepare the soil
feed the birds
wait for spring
it soon will come.