Conor Darrall
Bio
Short stories, poetry and some burble . Irish traditional musician, medieval swords guy, draoi and strange egg. Bipolar/ADD/CPTSD/Brain Damage. Currently querying my novel 'The Forgotten 47' - @conordarrall / www.conordarrall.com
Stories (130)
Filter by community
A Treasury of New Words and Terms for Burned-Out (Adult) Children. Top Story - November 2023. Content Warning.
Greetings and Welcome, language lovers. Following the Neolomicro Challenge, I was left with a lot of bizarre definitions that I thought might give some of you a chuckle. These are the offcuts that I ran out of time / inclination to pursue. I hope you enjoy them, and that they can be the start of a glorious new dictionary for these beleaguered times.
By Conor Darrall2 years ago in Fiction
Culpabumble. Runner-Up in the Neolomicro Challenge.
"Colin, can you come in here please?" Three months in the office, and Jared was still getting my name wrong, despite sitting three meters away from me, separated by the brushed glass wall obscuring his lower half. I found that feature of the wall comforting. Jared was a creep. He peered out from his leadership nook like a meerkat.
By Conor Darrall2 years ago in Fiction
Aromescence
She affected me like atmospheric pressure at first, almost a tickle behind the ears and heart. 14 years since we had met in person. Our odd-hours, online reconnection as much a dissociated dream as a reality; as much a theosophical possibility as a tangible life-path. A concept instead of a thing.
By Conor Darrall2 years ago in Fiction
The head jar
Sometimes I hear a tinny noise like a mosquito buzz, in my ears, or is it my mouth, and I have to remind myself that the time I picked up a radio signal, one time, doesn’t mean that I can claim to be a radio, but I still worry about the buzzing. Am I getting tinnitus like me da, or did I really actually get an infection? I’m so worried for a silent forever, for losing the pulse of my drum nor in her voice, so sweet and high or gravel in a valley her magic is one I cannot lose - it’s probably nothing but the acoustics and the lamp by the weaker ear, I’ll get it checked out: I’ll play my drum more. I’ll crave and fear the silence.
By Conor Darrall3 years ago in Poets
Meeting the In-Laws
"Honey, you're late." "Mix-up at the massage parlour." Meeting the in-laws. Kill me. I stumbled home in a daze through Little Russia, and only remembered my promise to buy wine at the last minute: a bottle from Georgia with STALIN on the label.
By Conor Darrall3 years ago in Fiction
