Near side Possession By Gary Dorking If you will allow me, to mix metaphors- there are many doors through which we may pass on the road that is life. Some we go though gladly, others we only enter if pushed, and some, remain invisible to all but a few. Anthony Snell, of Surbiton, Middlesex, had been through virtually no doors in his 34 years, and then wouldn’t you know it, a whole bunch came along at once. A vehicle testing (MOT) station in Feltham, Middlesex. England: Ring, ring. “What’s wro...

OUT NOW “Crack that map of the brazen force” It said negating the dark strings for the sake of the cut and thrust of the weathered yet sharp symphony. It raised the deck on which we danced to find the cloud that let the lightning hit the rising star. If water flowed like this I would be the eternal bather, craving the night of the candlelight forced, shock rigid, dawn, where for a second of light, she would grin like a bullet, knocking me in the heart and causing a new race to start. A race ...

I wrote this very quickly and I will rework it later. I would be very interested in your views! The Hornet Fishermen Gary Dorking It was like a tiny hole, that idea, and Joola Burns peered into the end of it. At the opposite end, the concept raised its collars to form a shadow across its face, and peered back. The collars should have been starched. The idea wanted to hide itself, to be the elusive and artful insect in the hive. The glint of the eye of the idea, peered back at Joola and she w...

Sammie took himself the piano seat and began stroking the keys, making the piano cry. The notes flowed like tears. Man it was beautiful. From where i was sitting i could see charlotte making her way over to Max at the bar, she couldn't see me, I'm not sure she ever did, if she had, even just for a second, then maybe, but never mind, too late now. Max sits there elbows resting on the bar, shoulders up by his ears like a drunken wolf staring eyes half opened at his reflection, then he watches h...

He was a stranger, in a foreign land I told him my life’s story Until my face ran with tears Until my eyes were red “By the way, you do speak English?” “Wogga wogga” He said.

He was a stranger, in a foreign land I told him my life’s story Until my face ran with tears Until my eyes were read “By the way, you do speak English?” “Wogga wogga” He said.

Stop that (Written after observing some people meeting in Newport, Isle of Wight Sept 06) Three meet. Three joyless souls, groan, begrudge hands and kisses. Buried sneering, almost hisses from his lips, and his Mrs. Only their little dog has any sense of joy. He leaps up, excited. "Get down boy."

The comb over is over Rover. Cecil looked in the mirror. He had scissors in his hand. He looked at the lonely bush of hair on one side of his head, the equally isolated bush on the other, and the 42 or so strands that bridged the two, above the other wise hairless and shining dome, above his brain. He sighed as if he were a farmer, eyeing old faithful Shep; that poor old dog; just, lying there, not as young as he use to be. He knew in his heart, that the day would one day come, when he had t...

Cecil looked in the mirror, he had scissors in his hand. His eyes moved from the bush of hair on one side of his head to the bush of hair on the other, then he looked up at the 42 or so strands that bridged the two, above the other wise hairless and shining dome above his brain. He sighed and as if he were a farmer, eyeing old Shep, lying there, not as young as he use to be, he thought it was time, to put him down. He lifted the scissors , his chubby middle aged face and his resigned empty e...

Stop that (Written after observing some people meeting in Newport, Isle of Wight Sept 06) Three meet. Three joyless souls, groan, begrudge hands and kisses. Buried sneering, almost hisses from his lips, and his Mrs. Only their little dog has any sense of joy. Her leaps up, excited. Get down boy.