Skip to main content

contributions from March Creative Writing

Contributions from Wendy Parsons



The House on The Gloomy Hill

The house on the gloomy hill, steeped high in black rain soaked clouds, was a sight for sore eyes.  It was gone December 2012, still in a Christmas hangover.

And suddenly in the bleak mid-winter there appeared one speck of light like a thimble in a haystack amongst the blackness of the night.

Hard to notice at first, but as it happened Greg, a young man, blond hair and wicked mischief and stunning eyes was staring at the speck of a star, and the longer he looked the more prominent it became.

It felt to him like he couldn’t take his dashing eyes away for if he took his eyes away for only a split second the light speck/star might wickedly disappear as magically as it appeared…

Appear…appear….appearing misty eyed Felicity awoke and quietly came around from her dream…or was it a nightmare…what was this dream telling her…she thought quietly to herself stretching out and up with a big yawn and the light was peaking tentatively through the curtain and the sound of a Robin welcomed her and her future called Greg.

The Widow –Wendy Parsons

The widow rides over the dusky moors, black horse feeling the pace under the digging spurs
Inquisitive…so inquisitive.
Could the whisking wind reveal her secrets, silent and unspoken, unspoken and silent, coming from……….
The wrong side of town on the edge of bleakness, a missing piece of puzzle, crafted by hand with care and dedication she thought………

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contribution from Catherine A

A Poem Faster and faster the hooves beat the ground Louder and louder the roar of the crowd Onwards and onwards the pack flew around Higher and higher the fences stood proud Majestic animals soar through the air Whips and heels used without care Sweat and froth lined their flanks All to put money in others banks Beautiful beasts of burden exploited Natural behaviour and instincts thwarted Every effort to the last breath Pushed to the point of death By Catherine A
Post a Comment
Read more

Three words in April - contribution by one of our group

The morning mist, the stranger and the coincidence. Three phrases combined in one short piece of writing.   17/04/17 The morning mist was minding its own business, sitting quietly and nigh-on motionless on the hills. Yet everyone blamed the mist for the series of events that followed. The only crime that the mist might have committed was to leave teardrops of moisture on the filigree cobwebs and slender twigs of the hedgerows. And yet the mist was blamed. Some said that if it wasn’t for the mist the coach driver would have seen the stag. Others said that if it wasn’t for the mist the stag would have seen and heard the coach. Either way the bus would have delivered the children to school on time and the stag would have walked majestically away to find his does. As it was, however, as everyone said, the mist had intervened, got in the way, caused the first steps in a string of events. A stranger to the area might have asked how the mist could be to blame for the hu...
Post a Comment
Read more