(Photograph by Jerry Uelsmann) The Event below the surface filthy in every which way rendezvous at ground level the hangover cure cafes not so hidden, hidden brothel retreats divinely cut-loose ever so purple showgirls all-inclusive sexual indulgence the wizardry of New Orleans jazz migrated potent blinding nectarous spirits voluptuous fly-by-nights a stained mattress for spare … More TANGIBLE ILLUSIONS
Long since she had set aside time for reflection. Reminders of days gone by. Important? Most likely. A habit, certainly. Regardless, instinct told her that lessons learned shaped new dawns. Contemplation invariably led her toward an unremitting trinity of memories. Of those times when she stood quizzical, gawping, mouth wide open at a single, curiously … More A NEW DAWN
(artwork by Ted Giffin) A fragment from within my new book, ‘Notoriously Naked Flames’. This piece is taken from near the beginning of the tale. The picture above, by artist Ted Giffin (www.tedgiffin.com) captures perfectly the look of my heroine as I perceived her. EARLY SUMMER 1952 – SUSSEX, ENGLAND She examines her defenceless giant … More EARLY SUMMER 1952 – SUSSEX, ENGLAND
In the early hours, around the time of the summer solstice of 2016 the torturous drip, drip, drip of a blocked guttering woke me up from a zonked-out nightmare. I found myself contemplating the fact that for reasons unclear I was bored beyond measure. I’d previously written a couple of books of what I had … More NOTORIOUSLY NAKED FLAMES
All her life she had wanted legs. Proper legs with feet, ankles, calves, knees and thighs. Yet circumstance had afforded her nought but wheels, small wheels at that. Little wrought iron ones. Wheels that required constant care. Oiling and such like. Notwithstanding her shortcomings, she got out and about best she could. That is, until … More THE MAN IN THE BRETON SHIRT
in waking moments she often climbed Jacob’s ladder why? she knew not, cared not if the truth be told yet she could testify first hand to all who might listen that atop this puffed-up earthly domain all there was was a place barren of hidden desires and emotions a tedious realm of ‘in your face’ … More DEEPEST SLEEP
Once, long ago, upon a violation of a borderline and in a land of little consequence, at a time when all there was to eat was mostly last season’s dwindling stock of pickled cucumbers and red cabbage, plus sometimes, just sometimes a soupçon of stale bread, a small child either stole or rescued a mandolin. … More THE RESCUED MANDOLIN
Come the withering seasons night-time mists in the days before fiery invention the blackness of wide open spaces conjured up bogus beliefs credible magic, stark fear and worthy legends sugared coated by the storyteller and heirs apparent the whole of history was in narrative, in those times before the wonderment of pigments and dyes … More THE STORYTELLER
False hugs and latent promises, a precursor to love? Maybe hate? She could never decide. Yet here, in this glorified candlelit pigpen, immune from sirens, horns and streetwise revelry, the old guard are at play. Leaning on the bar, dressed to the gaudy nines (dressed to the gaudy nines to blend in, no other reason) … More CANCELLED APPOINTMENT
There is a magnetic corner of the globe, somewhere south of here and north of there, that is visible only from within. There are those who are unconsciously attracted to this land, others may guilelessly chance upon it. Some however, are abductees from abroad held captive as mere chattels, skivvy’s and such like, marooned in … More 107345
- MIKE STEEDEN - 