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 (158/662)
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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
Pugilistic Portrait
"Are you alright, sir?" I felt as if I had been punched by a heavyweight, and one without gloves at that. I tried to focus. I was propped up on a low chair or stool of some sort and was looking up at a middle-aged man who seemed somehow familiar. There was nothing familiar about my surroundings.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
Crept
I sat bolt upright, as the thing floated there before my eyes. “What is it?” “Ah… ah…” I could not form the words. I could feel my blood run cold, hairs erect, breath taking rapid short gasps. The question was repeated. “It’s a spider!” I eventually blurted out, as I tried to push myself back against the pillow behind me. The spider, unconcerned, began to tiptoe up the bedspread.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
Marshlands of Avalon
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Just as it did every day since the dawn of time. Twice a day, as one might expect of the tidal marshes of Avalon. Only this day, the tidal rise did not cease. It was as if the influence that set the direction of flow of the great stinking waters had disappeared with the queen.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
Sword of Avalon
Continued from part two: Spaemann, Morwenna, and the circle of friends, have gathered in Guildford Cathedral, with Spaemann arriving shortly after, wearing a robe of plain hessian. He has a sword, held by the cord tied around his waist. None recognized it as the Sword of Avalon.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
Life discovered on Mars
08:00 UTC, Elysium Plains, the tiny blue disc of Terra visible just 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 here to collect samples.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
Wonders of techology
Hank stood up and switched off the new color set, which had been working perfectly since the repairman replaced that valve. He wondered how he ever got on with black and white. He stepped into the hallway just as Rita was putting the phone receiver back on its cradle. The AT&T man had only just installed it last week. Bright, shiny white plastic, replacing that ugly old black Bakelite. Rita had bought a new mahogany telephone table with a built-in seat so she could make her calls in comfort.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Fiction
