Category Archives: Original Works

Grief’s Pure Cold


It’s a very different sort of dark

When we deal with the loss of light

The  moments we reflect most fondly on

Are our courage in the fight

As time takes eternal steps ahead

And as we move as one with it

We pray our kindest days before

Provide us with due credit

We reflect, we rise, we raise a toast

As winter turns to spring

A little early to call on the sun

But these times demand we sing

We close our eyes, we let our day slip

We know this procedure all too well

What we take from it is a moment

Where we realize there’s still much more to tell

The stories, the legends, the place souls lost to us hold

Our minds, our hearts, our spirits soar

As love decays grief’s pure cold

God Turns The Faucet-A Short Play






(We start in PITCH BLACK. No light, no sound, except for maybe the flicking of a magazine, indicating someone is reading. There is a LOUD KNOCK on the DOOR)


It’s me

(We hear small but audible FOOTSTEPS as someone lost in the inky blackness opens the door, before they do so, they SWITCH ON THE LIGHT.

As the room LIGHTS UP, we find it is a MURKY, UNORGANIZED  MESS. A SOFA in the center of the room has visible SPRINGS sticking out of it, with several pieces of DRENCHED CLOTHING spread over the back of it.

The person answering the door, a FEMALE, EARLY TWENTIES,  HAIR IN  A PONYTAIL, WEARING A PINK T-SHIRT AND TORN JEANS, greets a YOUNG MALE, ROUGHLY THE SAME AGE, wearing a BRIGHT BLUE BLAZER and RED SHORTS, he is DRENCHED, it is raining heavily outside)


I told you to take the trenchcoat, look at you, you’re soaking


It’s not my fault God turned the faucet on  before I got back


I watch the weather for a reason


Did you get the tickets?


I got the autographs too


You haven’t been out of this room, how’s that possible?


Shopped online for ‘em


I thought you wanted to get autographs in person?


Yeah but, like you said, God turned the faucet on.


You’d rather spend time and money cheating yourself out of a live experience because you don’t want to get your hair wet?


I was just going to shower


One of the deals we made is that if I got the tickets, we’d try to make the most out of the day and find opportunities to make a statement back home. We would have our chance to brag for once.


Yeah, well maybe I’m up for bragging on my own time.


You’re impossible.


That’s very possible

(The man sits on the edge of the bed)


That bed’s creaking an awful lot


Yeah, I mean, we haven’t even started on it yet


Excuse me?




I didn’t quite hear you there


Well then get hearing aids


What haven’t we started?




You want to have sex?


Not yet, I was thinking after


That’s a problem


How so?


 I’m your buddy


Yeah, you are, that’s why I want to do this


You can’t just ask a friend to have sex with you, what if…


Yeah, ‘What If’



(she sits down on the bed beside him, she holds his hands tight)


My mother used to tell me IF was the most powerful word in the English language….so many possibilities, so many options, some of the best feelings, some of your worst, all come from asking a question to yourself…


Doubting yourself?


No, no silly, challenging yourself. To see how you measure up as a human being


Having sex with your close friends is your idea of ‘measuring up?


…You’re gonna say it…


Say what?


Keep going


I’m thinking of repercussions…if…


There you go


If I hurt you…


You won’t


If I do…


I’ll forgive you


Like that?


Like that


I’d never fall out with you either. You mean too much to me.


See? I’ve got nothing to be afraid of, and neither do you


This is the part where I say ‘I love you’ and we snuggle a bit right?


We’re not lip locking




Go with the Eskimo kisses.


Why? You feeling chilly? Like them?


‘Course I’m chilly, so are you, God DID turn the faucet on

Wisdom’s Teeth Leave Scars



Meet Harold. He is a sorcerer.  The land of Pompitope is where he hails from.

It looks like a pretty dull place to the trained and educated eye.

It’s a paradise to the naive.

All the up and coming sorcerers think this place is a stepping stone; it’s where they’ll take a step above.

Harold and his friends all have this big dream of being the most discussed, most debated of their kind in all of Pompitope.

They had heard stories though, that whenever the young and inspired come back from atop the summit of Mount Nuent, that they come back with but one thing.


And it depressed them.

And no one questioned why. Noone was allowed to get a word in on the matter in fact; all the young Sorcerers just went back to work.

And work was all they considered it by this point. Not fun, not a hobby, just work. They considered this a way to making a living, they weren’t embracing it as a way of life; they were making it the means for which to pay the cost of living.

Harold and his friends had heard these whispers, but took no heed of their warnings. They would travel to Mount Nuent, and they vowed they would come back to their homeland with a zest for life, the means to take it head on and embrace its ups and downs.

This would be their greatest test, they diligently researched every spell they could learn, and even reminded themselves of the spells they had already practiced and mastered time and again, and they would journey to Nuent at the fourth setting of the suns that day.

When that moment came, ‘Harold’s Hoarde’ as the villagers called them, made their way to the mountain. As they ascended, the fearsome conditions, as predicted by them, provided the test of endurance.

Violent winds threatened to sweep them off their feet, but a wave of their wands made them lighter than air.

A treacherous and raging waterfall stood between them and the next stage of the path, but a wave of their wands forged a steep bridge connecting them to the other side of the mountain.

Howling masked banshees that clung to the sides of the cliffs reached out to tempt the men, but the Wizards set about unmasking each of them, and with a wave of their wands, they created mirrors for each of them. Transfixed by their own beauty, the banshees left the Wizards to ascend the remainder of the mountain.

Finally, they reached their destination, and were awarded with an audience with the wise Wizards of the land. Those fables had decreed to be so powerful, that they possessed the means to create life itself.

Harold and his friends asked if they could bring something to life, something with raw, potent emotion, a zest for life, and had flaws it would have to overcome.

The wise Wizards, excited, began discussing what the creature would look like. After a couple of hours, it became clear this was all they were discussing.

Nothing about what kind of flaws it would have, what conceptions of faith could challenge its belief in itself, what causes it could join to determine in its long life if it would serve a great good or evil. None of that, the wise Wizards wanted to know if it should have a fourth eye or a seventh sense.

Harold argued that the creature had to make sense.

The wise Wizards laughed at this, and replied “It’s magic, it doesn’t have to make sense”

Harold and his friends gritted their teeth, and opted to depart Nuent that night, and returned home earlier than scheduled. They put their wands away, they greeted their wives and kids with a warm embrace and from there sought out a job in the local paper, looking to make ends meet.

They had gained wisdom that evening, and learned their most bitter lesson.

Harold’s hoard would work hard to serve life rather than challenge it, they would pay the bills, they would raise the next generation, and they would give them a different kind of advice. They hoped that their wisdom would leave no trace of the scars their own epiphanies had provided.

Life had to make sense of itself, or all its creatures would lose all sense of it.


Trust In The Hand



Snakes can harm us tender souls
Their bite is fierce and all seems grim
We question where their poison comes from
What keeps their venom in
For those who trust more in God’s nature, science just won’t do
They seek answers within their souls, and what thier words say to you
So if you believe in a mighty hand, reaching down with blessing
Trust in that hand to keep you close, and the serpent’s bite will lessen

Up Above The Beetles



There had been a nagging thought sitting in the head of a young tender upstart of a thing as it paced up and down a garden centre stationed in the middle of nowhere, or anywhere that wasn’t where he wanted to be.

He fancied a stroll along the beach.

But that wasn’t the issue.

No, this thought occurred to him just as he spotted a beetle darting across the clear pavement.

It was the second creature he’d spotted that day. The first had been a robin. Tiny little thing.

He didn’t have this thought with that. He’d never allow it.

With a beetle, and with any insect, the thought persisted.

The thought that puts you between roles.

Roles that were vast and simple.

The simple action of the common man, acting with senior authority of a commanding God.

A God who need not say a word to cast judgement, and end days, short as they were already, for the insect.

It took but a simple step.

 It had to be quick, mind you, for the insect wasn’t going to just take a rest, they never do. They are always scurrying. Always.

You had to be sharp, make your decision within the time frame allocated, place that bold step forward, and smite the insect with all your might.

That’s the thought that persisted.

And it always did.

The boy fancied himself a good soldier, a servant of something he deemed fit to be God.  He likes to think he shared some kind of communion with it, or him, or her, or all three.

There wasn’t such a clear way of identifying it.  It had no shape, it had no number, nothing came before one, but people often say in circles a God is the one above all, so it can’t be nothing.

And yet others say the universe came from nothing.

What came before nothing? Was there a number nobody knew about?

That was the scarier thought, one that did not persist as much, but on this warm sunny summer day, it was all the boy could think about.

A number with no brand, no visibility, no shape.

No way of being judged.

The boy let the beetle scurry away, too distracted by all the other joyous thoughts he’d allow to process, thoughts that he was paranoid would be clouded by thoughts pertaining to what he’d been taught by the word of God, by the word of his parents, that life was sacred, and to take any life, ANY life, not one excluded, would see you judged, on the day you passed, or even, if you happened to be Stateside, were made to pass on.

The boy shouldn’t be thinking this way, he was too young.

But that’s just it…we’re all too young at this stage, aren’t we?

None of us have lived millions of years, at least not in our physical manifestations, no; no we live for the tiny little moments and to embrace the vast and simple notions that shape us as numbers of varying shape and stature

It’s just to take a bold step forward, and not step on something in the process.

No matter how small in importance it is, and how it may impact the waking world.

It is, after all, a number.

A number with shape, size, scale. Branding.


That which you believe in, it has no shape, it has no number, it’s above that, it’s above all things. It leaves an impact on you, and you’re content with that, you want to feel good about that, you don’t want to cheat it; you don’t want to disappoint it.

And so the thoughts turn to simple things again, and the boy’s parents drove him home, and the boy thought to himself, ‘I could really fancy a stop by the beach’

And when the car drives past the beach, and that opportunity passes, he thinks to himself ‘was that because I complimented stepping on the beetle? Was that why my parents didn’t decide to stop for a bit and let me have my fun?’

Thinking it was one thing, saying it to a parent was another.

And so the boy asked when being put to bed, first he asked the mother, and she didn’t know what to make of it, so she asked the father, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

All they knew was the boy had spared a life.

And they were proud of that. They let him know they were proud of it.

And the boy went to bed feeling good about himself, feeling something had compelled him to show mercy that day, something trusted him that day.

He liked to think  the shapeless number, the one beyond or behind all recognizable numbers, was one worth counting towards, or very likely counting backwards to, so he too could be ultimately counted. To be said to matter in the final analysis.

For each step forward takes us back to these thoughts, these snap judgements of our own, it all comes back to the word of God. Which God you ask?

The one above the beetle or the one above the child?

Is there a difference?

You Mustn’t Tell-(Original Story)

Note: This is intentionally written in the form of an “adult children’s story”


This is Sammy York.

But you mustn’t tell.

Sammy York is a secret.

Most of the world has never heard of her.

And yet they do know her.

Yes, she is known to the world.

But not as Sammy York.

Sammy York is a secret.

And you mustn’t tell.

Sammy York is a name behind another name.

A much more famous name.

The Daylight Saver.

That’s right, a superhero

A genuine, true and right superhero

And not one of those types that cling to the cloak of night.

Oh no.

Daylight Saver does exactly what it says on the tin.

She saves the day.

In broad daylight.

She wears a fancy red cape, a white t-shirt, and a mask

And behind that mask is Sammy York.

But you mustn’t tell!

For many years Sammy had dreamed of being a superhero

Ever since she was in school.

Every time the other kids played cops and robbers, she would play the role of neither.

She’d be a superhero.

She’s come swooping in on a soapbox racecar and save the day.

But this annoyed everyone.

It meant the robbers were overpowered and the cops couldn’t do their jobs.

Everybody disliked Sammy in school because of it.

Except three of the boys.

Roger, Ramsey, and Jet.

They always hung around with Sammy and enjoyed playing with her.

They even enjoyed playing with her dolls.

But you mustn’t  tell!

All three of the boys, Roger, Ramsey, and Jet, grew up and became exactly what they played in school.

They became cops.

And Sammy York became a superhero

But you mustn’t tell!

As Daylight Saver, she had captured many crooks with her trusty gadgets and expert martial art skills.

And the public loved her.

But the crooks and the cops didn’t.

Every time Roger, Ramsey and Jet arrived at the scene of the crime, the crime had already been prevented.

The crooks were all tied up in ribbons and left at the doors of the police station like an early Christmas present.

And all the public kept asking the trio was ‘what took you so long?’

The cops were very cross.

They were being made to look bad.

And then one day, something terrible almost happened.

While chasing some crooks on foot, the cops were intercepted by Daylight Saver

She grabbed the crook’s legs with both hands.

He fell to the ground with a mighty thud.

But…oh no, he had a gun in his hand.

A gun is a most terrible weapon indeed.

And it went off in his hand as he did so.

And it grazed a passer-by right in the shoulder.

The police and Daylight Saver were both horrified.

The civilian was a little boy.

Daylight Saver quickly took her leave.

The police took the blame from an angry mob.

Now everyone was angry.

Something had to be done.

The cops went to their chief and complained.

They pointed out that Daylight Saver was a vigilante, and vigilantism was against the law.

She was a civilian, not an active member of the police, and was thus answerable to the law.

The Chief listened to them and understood their plight.

He issued a warrant for Daylight Saver’s arrest.

The three cops put together a plan to catch Daylight Saver.

To stop her once and for all, they needed to unmask her.

And when she was unmasked, they would have to tell someone.

What did I tell you earlier in the story?

Say it with me


But they have to, or Daylight Saver will carry on being reckless, and the public would lose faith more and more in their local police.

Sometimes you have to tell the truth about someone for the greater good.

So they put their heads together, and came up with a plan of action.

The next day, Sammy York jumped out of bed.

She brushed her teeth.

She combed her hair

She had her breakfast.

She kissed a photograph of the boys she knew from school.

And then she set about putting on her costume.

She admired herself in the mirror.

“This will be a day worth saving” she said.

She leapt out of the window and jumped from rooftop to rooftop

She cut her journey short at one specific building which overlooked most of the city.

It was breathtaking.

She used to play on these rooftops with the boys all the time.

She almost jumped off the roof when she was little.

She wanted to feel as the birds did whenever they spread their wings.

But you mustn’t tell anyone about that either.

Jumping off high buildings is not for little girls, or boys.

Not unless you have had plenty of practise.

Now that she was all grown-up, she could jump off as many rooftops as she liked.

She knew her reflexes and ability to use a grappling hook would assure her a certain swing to safety.

She felt free.

She was alive.

Suddenly, so was everyone else.

Bustling activity in the city square.

Police cars surrounded the entire area.

Three men in ski masks flowed out of the local bank carrying bags of money

A  robbery was taking place.

She swung down to see if she could help.

As she landed, she felt like she was standing in something wet.

She looked down and found her feet were having difficulty budging from the spot.

She saw members of the public looking concerned, all of them were being kept at a distance.

She tried to move again, but could not.

She realized the ground beneath her feet had been laced with a special glue.

The robbers removed their masks to reveal Roger, Ramsey and Jet.

“You fell for our trap” they said.

Daylight was stunned.

“I’m on your side, cut me loose” she said.

“No, you operate outside the law, we cannot permit that any longer” said Roger.

“People could be hurt worse than that boy was the last time you ‘saved the day’” added Ramsey.

“So we have to take you in, and we must know your identity” concluded Jet.

“No, no, you mustn’t tell” said Daylight.

Roger reached out and tugged at the fabric of her mask.

Daylight smiled.

For she was well prepared.

She reached into her utility belt and produced a small capsule, she let it drop to the ground.

As it did so, It burst into a cloud of big, black smoke.

She grabbed both Roger and Ramsey’s heads as they approached her and smacked them together, knocking them out.

She slipped out of her boots and ran barefoot across the street.

Jet was very alert however, and gave chase through the smoke.

He chased her into an alleyway.

He made a grab for her legs with both hands.

Down she went with a loud thud.

The struggle was on as Jet made his move and reached for her mask with his right hand

The full weight of his legs pressed down on Daylight Saver’s back.

She only had one free arm, the other was pinned back by Jet’s left hand.

Jet slowly used his right hand to forcefully peel the mask off of her face.

When it came loose in his hand, his next order of business was to turn Daylight’s body over so she could formerly identify her

Daylight struggled, refusing to turn, she covered her eyes with her free hand.

Jet seized control of her arm and wrestled it away from her face.

He reeled back, in shock.

Sammy York, his friend from school, someone who was still his friend, was Daylight Saver.

Sammy’s eyes told a telling tale.

Her real name was no longer a secret.

She would soon be known to everyone.

Her career as a superhero would be over.

And she had only her inexperience and overconfidence to blame.

“Don’t cry Sammy” said Jet, “I will let you go”

“Why would you do that?” asked a confused Sammy.

“Because I’ve always loved you, and I know you would never intentionally hurt anyone” he said, stroking her face with the delicate touch of his fingers.

“This is not very becoming of a police officer” Sammy said, “If I were you, I’d throw the book at me”

“If you let me train you, you can be a great help to us, but you must keep to the shadows from now on and let us take the credit so the public can regain their trust in us” Jet replied.

Sammy smiled and nodded. She understood.

Jet handed her back her mask, “Here” he said, “I will say you made good your escape, we will meet each other later tonight and we’ll begin working together, But remember, this is our secret, YOU MUSTN’T TELL”

Sammy nodded again and gave her friend a big hug.

She did not know what to make of his feelings for her just yet, but she would see what their relationship going forward would bring.

Eventually it all worked out.

Daylight Saver became more experienced and less clumsy, she also operated in the evening as she could no longer be a trusted public figure.

Now she was the Night Shifter.

Jet was her mentor, her partner, and her confidant, and his training brought out the best in her.

He and his friends were able to restore the good name in the local police department.

And over a year later, Sammy York returned his feelings for her.

And once they began their relationship, they had to tell everyone.

So everyone could have a party at their wedding.

After the wedding, came the honeymoon.

And you know what happens on the first night of your honeymoon don’t you?

You do.


Only Connect


Eight long years separate
Why did we wait?
Loved ones dismiss us with a piercing glance
Why must they hate?
Daily comments of her lives online
Well wishes for a birthday
It sparks a notion all day long
Let’s go out for coffe
She was shy, small, and keeps no eye trained long
We talk her whole life over
A most familiar song.
When the talk ends, she turns
She thanks me for the meal
I ask if we can stay in touch
If time was ours to steal
She says it depends on he day
In a tone so tellingly flirty
She snuck past her parents to make this day count
The girl is well past thirty!
As she strolls along the high street
Her world knows no doubt.
I sat there nursing a hot mug
What was that all about?