Submissions by Lozzamus
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I compare poetry to painting, believing that I lack any drawing/painting skills but believing my imagination and training in writing has enabled me to transfer my love of visual art to the written word
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
21st Oct 2024 7:15pm
21st Oct 2024 7:15pm
Secrets - The Visit To Craig's Family
First weekend.
Sunday. Pack sandwiches and a flask of coffee. Walk along an old railway trail with overgrown vegetation both sides. Cross a suspension bridge. Take photographs. Have lunch in a family friendly country pub. Stop off for refreshments before setting off for home.
Robert isn't used to the north; he's an Islington boy with an American mother and a mixture of accents, but I want him to get a taste of his roots.
Tonight, after supper, we'll create photo collages and upload them to the server, and we'll choose a special name for the...
Sunday. Pack sandwiches and a flask of coffee. Walk along an old railway trail with overgrown vegetation both sides. Cross a suspension bridge. Take photographs. Have lunch in a family friendly country pub. Stop off for refreshments before setting off for home.
Robert isn't used to the north; he's an Islington boy with an American mother and a mixture of accents, but I want him to get a taste of his roots.
Tonight, after supper, we'll create photo collages and upload them to the server, and we'll choose a special name for the...
#family
#grief
#memories
#mystery
#risk
98 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
17th Oct 2024 8:35am
17th Oct 2024 8:35am
Secrets - Robert And Gordon
Later, I check on Robert. He's sleeping in his room. 'Night, buddy,' I whisper, adjusting the brown teddy bear so it won't fall.
It is quiet, far too quiet for me. The static stillness of the country gives the impression of time slowing down, stopping altogether. I find a beer in the fridge, sit on the sofa bed and drink. So much for good intentions. Fitness, diet. I don't want to go to sleep. Sleep frightens me, has done ever since Vince Macarthur brought his crowbar down on my head, screaming his innocence again and again. My recovery from the attack took several years....
It is quiet, far too quiet for me. The static stillness of the country gives the impression of time slowing down, stopping altogether. I find a beer in the fridge, sit on the sofa bed and drink. So much for good intentions. Fitness, diet. I don't want to go to sleep. Sleep frightens me, has done ever since Vince Macarthur brought his crowbar down on my head, screaming his innocence again and again. My recovery from the attack took several years....
#childhood
#family
#memories
#mystery
#risk
96 reads
3 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
15th Oct 2024 5:48pm
15th Oct 2024 5:48pm
Secrets - The Disclosure
I have chips and gravy for tea, along with a couple of chunks of homemade bread to dip in the gravy. Doorsteps, we called them when we were kids. Mel shakes her head and says I need to eat more sensibly.
Afterwards, we retreat to my flat for a few minutes and talk with the door open, keeping an eye on Robert who's in the other flat on Mel's computer. A delicate matter, she said earlier, one she would prefer Robert not to overhear.
'There's something I think you ought to know,' she says. 'Gordon Day's living in Burrington and is in charge of the gym there.' ...
Afterwards, we retreat to my flat for a few minutes and talk with the door open, keeping an eye on Robert who's in the other flat on Mel's computer. A delicate matter, she said earlier, one she would prefer Robert not to overhear.
'There's something I think you ought to know,' she says. 'Gordon Day's living in Burrington and is in charge of the gym there.' ...
#friendship
#memories
#mystery #risk
#mystery #risk
92 reads
8 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
12th Oct 2024 9:18am
12th Oct 2024 9:18am
Secrets - Back to Lancashire (3)
After a cup of tea in Mel's flat, I return for the rest of the luggage, grab the remaining bags from the boot of my car and use the electronic keypad to get back in The Factory. Once inside, I drag my belongings to the lift at the side of the building and ride up to the top storey, watching each floor disappear through the door panel. Mel's flat faces mine across the drop. I don't like heights, though. Never have done. The surrounding valley looks tiny from the drop.
Mel's laughter floats across the top floor of the building. She has a one bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchenette...
Mel's laughter floats across the top floor of the building. She has a one bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchenette...
#breakup
#family
#memories
#mystery
#risk
119 reads
6 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
9th Oct 2024 11:27am
9th Oct 2024 11:27am
Secrets - Back to Lancashire (2)
Hills, and more hills, conjuring up thoughts of the old tongue twister about the ragged rascal running round and round the rugged hill. I get lost on the way. After stopping to look at the map, I retrace the route over a bridge and past a tiny village church, the colour of hay.
'Nearly there,' I say to Robert, listening to an iPod in the back.
My son doesn't reply, just stares out of the window. He's eight.
I wish you could meet Robert. I'm sure he'd warm to you. He does to certain people, but he has never bonded with me. I won’t use the word autism, but...
'Nearly there,' I say to Robert, listening to an iPod in the back.
My son doesn't reply, just stares out of the window. He's eight.
I wish you could meet Robert. I'm sure he'd warm to you. He does to certain people, but he has never bonded with me. I won’t use the word autism, but...
#childhood
#mystery
#risk
85 reads
6 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
8th Oct 2024 8:31am
8th Oct 2024 8:31am
Secrets - Back To Lancashire (1)
Let me explain, Craig. It's a mess.
Where do I begin? At the present time, I suppose. I started making notes this summer, hoping to regain a clearer picture of what actually took place on Whaley Hill. A therapeutic quest of sorts, especially after my marriage fell apart.
But I'm still searching for answers.
Nine years have passed since Macarthur attacked me with the crowbar during the storm.
But was it him?
According to the police, yes. He planned it while still in prison and he acted alone.
I can just about accept that...
Where do I begin? At the present time, I suppose. I started making notes this summer, hoping to regain a clearer picture of what actually took place on Whaley Hill. A therapeutic quest of sorts, especially after my marriage fell apart.
But I'm still searching for answers.
Nine years have passed since Macarthur attacked me with the crowbar during the storm.
But was it him?
According to the police, yes. He planned it while still in prison and he acted alone.
I can just about accept that...
#memories
#mystery
#risk
100 reads
7 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
6th Oct 2024 9:27am
6th Oct 2024 9:27am
Secrets - Confrontation (2)
A fresh downpour has started. I make my way down the hill, stopping when I hear footsteps. Nothing. I continue on through the icy wind to the clearing where I've parked my car. The dog's barking gets louder in the distance. Nearby, more branches snap. Silence again. The white van is still parked a few yards from my car.
I feel it then. An invisible presence, the same one I felt a few nights ago near my flat in London. I hear movement in the trees that separate the clearing from the deserted field and I shine the torch in all directions.
A figure slithers through the...
I feel it then. An invisible presence, the same one I felt a few nights ago near my flat in London. I hear movement in the trees that separate the clearing from the deserted field and I shine the torch in all directions.
A figure slithers through the...
#memories
#mystery
#risk
104 reads
9 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
4th Oct 2024 9:06am
4th Oct 2024 9:06am
Secrets - Confrontation (1)
The sky's darkening, urging me to turn back.
The contact's not answering his phone.
He and I have an agreement: I must stay out of sight and not approach his home.
But I've driven all this way.
Now what?
Go home, I hear you whisper.
***
Good idea.
I resume my journey.
Long shot, but I'm prepared to take a chance.
It started in one place. And I believe it will end in that same place.
Whaley Hill, in particular the reservoir at the top.
...
The contact's not answering his phone.
He and I have an agreement: I must stay out of sight and not approach his home.
But I've driven all this way.
Now what?
Go home, I hear you whisper.
***
Good idea.
I resume my journey.
Long shot, but I'm prepared to take a chance.
It started in one place. And I believe it will end in that same place.
Whaley Hill, in particular the reservoir at the top.
...
#memories
#mystery
#risk
130 reads
9 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
30th Sep 2024 2:38pm
30th Sep 2024 2:38pm
Secrets - The Threatening Notes
Anyway, Macarthur's free after sixteen years, and I receive another of those notes done on a portable typewriter with fading black ink. You know, the old-fashioned sort of typewriter that makes a clackety-clack-clack din and predates the electronic typewriter. The note comes through my door shortly before dawn.
Liar. You'll get your commupance in the end, you watch.
He's misspelt comeuppance, but I know it's him from the rhythm of the words and the northern dialect. The words sort of leap off the slip of paper, each one stamped with his smell. Remember the...
Liar. You'll get your commupance in the end, you watch.
He's misspelt comeuppance, but I know it's him from the rhythm of the words and the northern dialect. The words sort of leap off the slip of paper, each one stamped with his smell. Remember the...
#memories
#mystery
109 reads
6 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
29th Sep 2024 7:10pm
29th Sep 2024 7:10pm
Secrets - They Say I Fled
They say a group of teenagers saw me on the field that August Bank Holiday Monday.
One called over, asked if I was all right. I didn't answer, apparently. Just continued stumbling in the direction of home, sweat dripping from my face. The teenagers didn't hang around. They assumed I had sunstroke. If I had seen myself, I would have probably thought the same.
Others noticed me wandering along the main road towards the estate where we lived. Drinkers in the pub watched me stagger like a drunk. I continued walking. Up the hill, through a ginnel, past the church....
One called over, asked if I was all right. I didn't answer, apparently. Just continued stumbling in the direction of home, sweat dripping from my face. The teenagers didn't hang around. They assumed I had sunstroke. If I had seen myself, I would have probably thought the same.
Others noticed me wandering along the main road towards the estate where we lived. Drinkers in the pub watched me stagger like a drunk. I continued walking. Up the hill, through a ginnel, past the church....
#memories
#mystery
#risk
184 reads
10 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
21st Sep 2024 6:09pm
21st Sep 2024 6:09pm
Silent - Conclusion
In the present, Gavin returns to his musical studies and learns to come to terms with Philippa's betrayal
Lucy, similarly, returns to her University studies in Manchester and comes to appreciate her family and the sacrifices they made for her.
After a while, contact between Gavin and Lucy fizzles out as the past loses significance for them.
*** Spoiler if reading for the first time
.
As Katie Whittacker explained in the denouement, her father-in-law Arthur Harlesden ordered the fire that killed Lucy's parents when Lucy was 8.
In the...
Lucy, similarly, returns to her University studies in Manchester and comes to appreciate her family and the sacrifices they made for her.
After a while, contact between Gavin and Lucy fizzles out as the past loses significance for them.
*** Spoiler if reading for the first time
.
As Katie Whittacker explained in the denouement, her father-in-law Arthur Harlesden ordered the fire that killed Lucy's parents when Lucy was 8.
In the...
#mystery
#risk
89 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
6th Sep 2024 6:47pm
6th Sep 2024 6:47pm
Silent - Caught In The Fire - Part 2
Now, Gavin
Switching on the flame again, the bloke set the cloth alight.
'No, don't,' Jace shouts.
Taking a few steps back, the Angel of Mercy hurls the burning cloth on the floor and ball of fire leaps from one side of the room to another, narrowing missing him.
'Run,' Jace shouts.
We leg it from the main storage area, into a draughty corridor at the rear, searching for a window or for something to escape through. I don't exactly leg it, as I can barely walk, let alone run, but somehow I manage to keep going, past cement walls with...
Switching on the flame again, the bloke set the cloth alight.
'No, don't,' Jace shouts.
Taking a few steps back, the Angel of Mercy hurls the burning cloth on the floor and ball of fire leaps from one side of the room to another, narrowing missing him.
'Run,' Jace shouts.
We leg it from the main storage area, into a draughty corridor at the rear, searching for a window or for something to escape through. I don't exactly leg it, as I can barely walk, let alone run, but somehow I manage to keep going, past cement walls with...
#anger
#escape
#revenge
123 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Lozzamus
