The city William Tell of Ollie Reed, Charlie Dicken and Tommy Steeles. Too many of them writhed in shallow water, as if there was nowhere else to anchor. Too shoal for safe swimming, stuck in apathy forever.
I yearned to box in at least one. Junkie, alkie, deadhead stowaway tripulant borrower, hooker. It boxed me up every afternoon as I ran to the grilling room downtown. Mike won’t be pleased to hear that! I can already shillings and pence his North and South wide open in disbelief. At least once I’m on the winning side of the flipped coin.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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More stories from Moon Desert and writers in Fiction and other communities.
A Call
I was flapping my wings as fast as I could. They were spinning at high frequencies like the broad and bulky blades of windmills in a field that I always passed with the greatest curiosity. What were they doing there and why? I could never guess or enter this place because the price for this knowledge was too high. Besides, you don't need to know if you're a bird, and the only limit is the sky.
By Moon Desert3 years ago in Fiction
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*** I'm keen to republish the interviews I did for my series with Vocal creators. It's been a few years and I thought it might be nice to revisit these wonderful conversations. I'll be releasing them one at a time for a few weeks/months.
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