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 (156/624)
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Playing a long way from home
It was a fantastic gig. Their first tour of Ireland: Monroe's Live in Galway. The Irish press were there, the group all in the special stage costumes and best makeup. The audience was amazing, demanding two encores before the house hit the power.
By Raymond G. Taylor10 months ago in Fiction
Hit the road... er... Gary?. AI-Generated.
The following story is AI generated. It was generated using an input string aimed at replicating the thoughts I had in mind when I wrote a wetware-generated story: Hit the Road Jack. By this I mean that I wrote Hit the Road Jack, and then wondered whether I could be bested by an AI. What do you think? Here is the story, 100% AI, and I make no comment here. Please feel free to draw your own conclusions, which I would be pleased to read in comments. If you would like to, please comment on whether you liked the AI story and, if you have the time, compare it with my own story. I would be interested to know which one you prefer and why. This is all part of my ongoing personal investigation into the uses of generative AI and any pros and cons. I am grateful to D.K. Shepard for their thoughtful article that inspired me to try out this little experiment.
By Raymond G. Taylor11 months ago in Fiction
When Nigel met Ronald
Long, long ago, in a land far away... Well, actually, not that long ago and in a land quite close to here... there lived a foolish man called Nigel, who had a really clever, and incredibly beautiful, daughter called Billion. Nigel's daughter Billion had gorgeous golden-blond hair and was a mathematical genius. She was also a professor of astrophysics at the prestigious University of Fingerinhoe in Essex, England (er... yes, that is a real place... although it doesn't really have a university. Call it poetic licence).
By Raymond G. Taylor12 months ago in Fiction
Fear and the forest
Father had promised her a day of adventure but what did she get? An afternoon at the playground by the woods. Parking the big motorcar he loved so much, he wouldn't even come to push her on the swings. He just lit up another cigarette and read his newspaper, sitting behind the wheel.
By Raymond G. Taylor12 months ago in Fiction
That book
"Oh, Jeff... I love you too... but..." There always had to be a 'but'. It was a dismal day in December. Westow Street, Crystal Palace. Drizzle dripping on dingy pavement. Come on, man. Snap out of it. I tore my eyes away from the trickle of dirty water disappearing down a drain.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
