You open your eyes, and the day is new. No, it isn’t new, but fresh, crisp. Like fresh snow, or the hiss of opening a can of Coke. It was bottled up, sweet, but overly so, and it stings as you hold it up to your lips. The coldness burns you, as nectar pours down your throat. No, this day is not new; you’ve been … Continue reading Nectar by Alex Childerstone
Images from my youth – bombs exploding, bloodied shoppers, black-masked IRA fighters parading their hatred of the British along with squaddies sullenly patrolling the lanes and checkpoints – hadn’t prepared me for the sense of serenity that this place exudes. Continue reading Crossing the Border by Jonny Evans
Trees coated the mountains like dark brush strokes, stab wounds, each ragged line shorter as they rose, the tree line falling back until only virgin snow lay upon the rocks, leaving saplings under the snow. Strips of bare stone cut through white like torn fabric in the cloak of the hills. The branches, cropped tight to the trunks, gathered mounds of powder. On one mountain, … Continue reading Sonny by Rafe Taylor
