Short stories
He walked over to the bench, sat down in the sun, crossed his legs and straightened the laces of his grey, Converse pumps. From this vantage point he could survey the entire Exchange Flags and the nameless individuals who traversed the open courtyard that had witnessed centuries of trade and barter. What more appropriate place could there be? He would wait patiently for that one...
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Poems
I was not born, but came to life here. I didn’t grow up, but grew into me here. I didn’t go to school, but my school was here. I left, but have never left here, My heart learned to beat and my lungs to breathe here. A thousand years, a thousand more, I’ll never walk alone through war, With echoes of the Bunnymen In...
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Drawings
My rough sketch of Alicia Keys from her early days. #wanttogotoartschooltolearnhowtodrawproperly ©Cre8ivation
Poems / Thoughts
I can run and run and travel many thousands of miles as the geese fly from where I am now. I can traverse continents and sail the eight seas to escape my plight and the ordeal that life has dealt me. I can fly to the utmost corner of the globe to leave behind the dreams of my fallen existence. But when I arrive I...
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Short stories
“Hey, I just heard they found the Albino with his throat ripped out last night. Honing in on a lady from another gang. Not a smart move.” Scars looked anxiously all around, afraid who might be listening. “Well it’s been kicking off big style this week. Must be something in the air. Fighting over the ladies. Fighting over whose land belongs to whom.” Domehead had...
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Quotes
Are there any sane women on Venus? Do any normal men live on Mars? ©Cre8ivation
Short stories
When Jim Montrose turned the key in the lock of his front door he knew instantly that something was wrong. His sixth sense screamed at him to turn around but he entered anyway. At that moment it was too late to abort and too early to know. Jim Christopher Montrose, the moonlighting accountant, dangled on a flimsy tightrope between the safety of escape and the...
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Thoughts
Flies. Lovely little things aren’t they? I love them almost as much as I adore seagulls. I’ve found that both of the little darlings hover round rubbish, although I can’t recollect ever seeing a seagull sitting on a steaming turd and enjoying the experience. Flies are lower than the lowest. They just love being around shit and puke and everything despicable that humans and animals...
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