Press ESC or click the X to close this window
Currently browsing

Life / Fictional forays /

August 24, 2018 Susan Elkin

Mother, 1972

Faintly, automatically, through two open doors she registered the low murmurings from the baby’s bedroom across the hall. Pianissimo. Crescendo would soon...

June 21, 2018 Susan Elkin

Pain by Susan Elkin

Thick black flaps Ragged, jagged, tear about my head Wrenching me apart. I am blinded, deafened and made speechless By the biting,...

May 27, 2018 Susan Elkin

Making The Green One Red by Susan Elkin

I knocked on Arabella’s sticker-encrusted door. “Come on. It’s 7 o’clock,” I twittered, feeling inexplicably nervous. “Thompson will be calling us in...