Raymond G. Taylor
Bio
Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.
Stories (156/625)
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Is there life on Mars?
08:00 UTC, Elysium Plains, the tiny blue disc of Earth visible above the rust-colored horizon. “I think I’ve found it,” I said over the headset, struggling to crouch down in the cumbersome EVA suit. Peering through the visor into a tiny crevice in the rock, I could clearly see the microscopic mollusc-like organisms. Final proof that there was life on Mars. I wished I had a partner with me to collect samples.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Dawn
“Dawn of a new era…. time for the whole nation to come together…” Who was he kidding? He would never get us out of this fix with his worn-out platitudes. What we needed was real leadership, bold leadership, decisive leadership. All night long I listened to him refining his speech down the hall, for all the good it would do him. Then, just before daybreak, the muffled CRACK-CRACK I was waiting for, quickly followed by a hail of automatic fire. A pause, before the Secret Service man came bursting through the door.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
The rambler's rest
Ask me about heaven and I would describe a pub by a craggy seashore, flickering flames rising from an open hearth. There, I would sit resting from the day’s ramble, pint pot in hand, as I listen to an old sea dog spinning a yarn. One such seafarer, Thomas was his name, sat with me by the fire in the Rambler’s Rest one evening, telling tales of the seven seas.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Hilma and Piet
Are you ever inspired to write something after seeing a work of art for the first time? I dreamt up this story while viewing a new exhibition at Tate Modern in London, where I volunteer as a visitor host. I then sat down in the middle of the gallery, surrounded by paintings, and wrote the story on my iPhone. Since it came to 99 words, I thought I might as well round it up into a drabble by editing the story into its present 100-word form. I was also planning to continue with the dialogue and write a longer story but was interrupted when the exhibition closed for the evening. Looking at these 100 words now, I kind of think this little tale stands up on its own.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Broader horizons
If you have never tried reading short stories before, why not try one of these quick-read gems? You will find all sorts of stories with a wide range of themes and pretty much every genre. Some will surprise you and you may even surprise yourself. Either way, please let me know what you think.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Coach and company
Christmas Eve, and the Coach & Horses was just starting to liven up. Only when I opened the door did I realise what day it was. Up until that point I had managed to avoid the dreaded pre-Christmas festivities. Opening the door let loose a wall of sound: excited conversation, laughter and yuletide merriment. To hell with all that! Realising my mistake, I was about to close the door again and turn away when someone bustled past me and nearly knocked me off my feet. I ended up in a fluster and was going to curse the offender when I heard a “Well look who it ain’t!” Glancing up, I caught Bob’s eye and could hardly leave now. He’d probably want me to buy him a pint.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
Two's company
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. The weather forecast said there was more snow to come, but we had packed plenty of food and there was fuel enough for a whole winter of snow. We were looking forward to a long weekend away from the hustle and bustle of the city. A long weekend of eating, drinking and relaxing.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
A plague of imps
Stumbling along alone, the child struggles to make progress through a clearing in the forest, oblivious to the whump, whump, whump of great wings swopping down from behind him. He is almost relieved to feel the creature’s long talons close around his shoulders, the great strength of the beast lifting him up into the air. His only reaction is to glance around at the scaly head of the monster, momentarily connecting his gaze with that of the reptilian eyes of his captor. A barely perceptible mutual nod seals the understanding between them before the winged serpent curls its neck around and down to the child’s face, connecting its course mouth with the infant’s gentle lips. A mush of welcome nourishment is exchanged. Satisfied, the child returns his gaze to the ground receding beneath him.
By Raymond G. Taylor3 years ago in Fiction
