Wordspill
It was the type of bar that only really gets busy for anhour or two after the offices kick out, popular with the city types looking for a quick drink before catching the train to Surbiton. As I sat nursing my pint, a group walked in and I could hear one of them talking about how much money he had made that day, even above the overly loud music from the jukebox. I could still hear him talking as they ordered their drinks and sat down at a table on the opposite side of the room from me. What ever it was he had to say, he was still talking loudly about it twenty minutes later as I drained the last few drops from . The nusic
CS Lewis, It's All Your Fault by Bogbrush, literature
Literature
CS Lewis, It's All Your Fault
So, here I am in a clone motel on the edge of an industrial town. The room is comfortable, but impersonal, soulless. In an attempt to bring some feeling of home, I hang the little stone wolf on its leather thonging from the mirror as I shave in preparation for the day ahead. A day that will be spent in a dimly lit warehouse watching numbers scroll on the screen as the clatters and roars of industrial ovens and shakers fill the air.
Thank goodness then, for that hour between work and darkness, a time to explore the roads and paths that lead away from the hotel. Maybe to the ruined abbey across the fields, whose grounds will be closed for the
September 22nd : The project deadline has been and gone. We engineers have been told that we must do all that we can to complete the work as soon as possible including working late and unsocial hours.
September 23rd : Managers are conspicuous by their absence. They were last seen at about 9.00pm by one of the cleaners who also discovered that all the exits are now locked. Someone tried to inform the gatehouse about this but only got an engaged tone on the telephone.
September 24th : The building doors are still locked. We've decided to send Dave into the air conditioning to see if he can get out of the building and open the doors. Being the
Storyteller's Apprentice Ch1 by Bogbrush, literature
Literature
Storyteller's Apprentice Ch1
Chapter 1 Falling Books and Seaspray
"They grow legends out here, at the edge of the world", said the Storyteller suddenly. "That is why we have come here."
Milli cocked her head to listen as she had asked that question several hours earlier when they had loaded the grey pony and the caravan onto the ferry. It had been raining hard at the time, driven by a cold wind that had made the ageing paddlewheel ferry buck and groan in the rising swell. She had not been polite in her opinions of the state of the ferry, the weather or their destination and she had used the phrase "Godsforsaken" several times. The old man had remained silent at
Goldilocks and the Three Bears as Told by my Mum
Once upon a time, three bears lived in a forest. These bears, unlike other bears that lived in caves, had a nice little thatched cottage in a clearing that daddy bear did repairs on at the weekend and that mummy bear kept well swept. Meanwhile, baby bear spent most of his time playing in the garden and surrounding woodland.
One sunny morning, mummy bear was preparing porridge for breakfast. Meanwhile daddy bear was inspecting the kitchen wall and wondering whether today was a good day to put up some shelves. Finally finishing cooking the porridge, mummy bear ladled out a bowl each for herself