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Diary of Denver MacCrum – Chapter Three

February 2/2/19 Christ, January always seems never ending doesn’t it? February-December seems to go by at break-neck pace, but January seems to take about three years to crawl to a finish.   I think it’s the fact that we have nothing to look forward to that make it seem so long, we’re just getting over…

Diary of Denver MacCrum – Chapter Two

January 1/1/19 New Year, same old bullshit.   I woke up with a head like it had been stuck inside Keith Moon’s bass drum, and a house that would give Kim & Aggie a coronary.   I blame Brendan, bloody Brendan.   ‘Hey, I’ll come around to yours for New Years, it’ll be fun!’  …

Diary of Denver MacCrum – Chapter One

Winter December 15/12/18 I think I can say with confidence that winter is the best of the four seasons. When we get snow, it makes the place look a bit nicer, at its best looking a bit like a postcard your Nan would collect, what’s more, it’s an excuse to stay indoors and completely eschew…

Poetry Collection 2

I Wish… I wish there was a better world I wish death were not inevitable I wish people were more tolerant, loving and accepting. There are no nations on this Earth, Only chunks of rock floating endlessly through an aching void Symbols have no meaning to humankind at large. The beauty that lives within this…

Monologues Set 1

Buried in a Biscuit Tin Background: Harry is a Yorkshireman, reflecting on his family’s misfortune. HARRY: We’ve always been an unfortunate family. It started when my dad were killed in t’war. Well we say it was during the war. It makes his death less embarrassing. He actually died when he stepped on a leftover landmine…

Confessions of a Serial Killer

Writer’s note: This is an extract from an ongoing writing project, it is written from the perspective of a serial killer on the loose, and is purely a work of fiction. I like to think, that before someone dies, they think of their mother. Freshly cooked dinner sitting invitingly at the table, the picture of…

Poetry Collection 1

White Wedding Rice flies as the happy couple walk out of the church, Observing them from my bedroom window I sip my tea in disdain.   My cynical mind goes into overdrive “I give it a week.” I think to myself silently judging from my high nest   Parked on the street was a white…