This year, I try to hold you tight, cradle you softly but steadily. I don't want to let you fall. You came to me first, in 1914. Crammed in. Pushed. Bent, broken. I tried to make room for you. Sad souls. Tired, wasted and wasting. When you finally fell, under the heat, I took you… Continue reading Writing on Wednesdays #13: Those Lost To The Earth.
Wann ist Mikkel? ‘Who the hell is Mikkel’, you might ask, ‘what kind of question is that’ you might say, ‘why the fuck are you speaking German’ would also be a reasonable response: these all being especially understandable questions if you haven’t seen Netflix’s most recent delve into the strange and unknown, Dark. Certainly, it… Continue reading ‘Dark’ And The Unending Search For Our Place In Time.
E.HOURS 6:30 am Today I am exactly 29 and a half years old. Out the window of the Odyssey I can see the gas giant, its rings circling it like the inside of a tree trunk. The Odyssey floats like a cloud, breathing out cold gusts every so often, her windows are eyes, looking onto… Continue reading Writing on Wednesdays #10: When I visited My First Birthday.
You are a small village, located in the south of England. Secluded, safe, you can't see into the shadows. We are in the shadows, behind the tree line, we are the wolves, red on our lips, we are hungry and it's your blood we're after.
The voice of a story be it first person, an omniscient third person narrator, a third person focalised narrator (where the narrator is separate but not necessarily as distant as your standard omniscient voice) is often overlooked, going unnoticed; like a transparent filter we read through but are unaware of. I remember the first time… Continue reading ‘Look at this tangle of thorns’: Narrative Voice and Deception.