Endless Horizons


The horizon stretched on

No end in sight

No pause for rest

Endlessly expanding

Tirelessly discovering

Moving quickly over ground just covered

In search of new ground to conquer and claim


On and on

Into the distance it reached

And on and on

It continued to grasp


I wished that it would stop

Just for a moment

In peaceful stillness


But instead, the horizon

Keeps moving

It won’t be still

It won’t be content

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #93 – Horizon | Word Count: 74

I’ve seen other writers turn their prose into poems but this is the first time I’ve tried it myself, and must say, not only was it a fun and interesting exercise, I don’t think the poem is half bad either – for a first attempt 😉  I will be certainly trying this again.

The original piece of prose, Horizon, a 120 word flash fiction, was published on this site in April 2016 and can be found here.


Father Figure

This is Part 12 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.

Arastia was quietly sobbing as she led me back to the palace. My instinct was to comfort her, but I held off, waiting to see if this was just another ploy to manipulate me.

The palace was cold, dark and devoid of people. The cavernous rooms echoed with the sound of our movements.

Suddenly my wife stopped before a statue. It was ancient and towered high into the air. A inscription read, “Ur*, The King of Kya-Shar, Lord of The Island of In-Between”.  The Bull.

The figure was intimidating, even when cut from stone. I had met him on two occasions only. He was Arastia’s father.

‘His magic is failing,’ she whispered. ‘His wanes, while mine grows. He blames me. And somehow I must…fix it.’

‘What does that have to do with me?’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I need your help. He has taken my son, Lyr…Our son.’

~ ~ ~

* “Ur” is the name of a rune in the Elder Futhark (a runic scripts) and means “aurochs”, a now extinct breed of very big cattle, or “wild ox”

Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #12 – This week the story is dead on the word limit of 150…

Wool-Gathering with the Seven of Cups

She was never here.  Never present.  Always lost in daydreams, a far-off look in her eye.

She had so much, but couldn’t see it.  She was too attached to her illusions.

Without them, she was nothing…

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt # 92 – Wool-Gathering | Word count: 36

Note: The Seven of Cups from the Tarot is often associated with daydreams and having unrealistic expectations from life, and corresponds perfectly with the word, “wool-gathering”, I think 🙂

A Ghostly Fairground Attraction

They called her Helter-Skelter, with her bird nest hair.  She would walk in long loopy zig-zags, across pavement, roads and grass, her path mapped out where only she could see it.

They called her Helter-Skelter, with her strange big eyes.  She would look all about her, her head moving in big, slow circles, round and round, but only when she thought no-one was watching.

They called her Helter-Skelter, with her sing-song laugh.  She would smile and giggle and wave at those who could see her – and those that couldn’t.

She was always happy, that’s what the storytellers said.  Even now, stuck in an endless tour of the fairground, she was happy.

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #91 – Helter-Skelter | Word count: 111

The Dragon and The Lamb

This is Part 11 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.

Arastia’s words rang in my ears. You owe me a debt.

‘I owe you nothing.’ My voice was surprisingly firm yet quiet.

She turned her eyes upon. They were as deep and as dark as the waters that surrounded the island, and just as dangerous. I shivered. That was a look she reserved for others; she had never set it upon me before. Rather stupidly, I paid the warning no heed. Always, she was the dragon, and I the lamb. Not this time.

‘It’s you who owes me a debt. A ten year long debt. Or have you forgotten?’ I hadn’t; I thought of it every day in prison. ‘Your scheming…lies...love, have ruined my life.’

Suddenly she burst into tears and crumpled to the ground. ‘I cannot do this any more. Lyr, help me. Please. There’s a secret I must tell you. Then you will understand everything.’

Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge # 11 – This week I’m 3 words under the 150 word limit.  Woohoo!

The Lament of The Green Man

The Green Man sighed heavily, disturbing leaves, branches.

‘What ails you?’ The Lady whispered.  Her hand moved across his furrowed brow, attempting to smooth out the deeply-etched bark.

‘My domain is dwindling,’ he said.  ‘Soon my woodland will be gone.’

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #90 – Furrowed | Word Count: 40

Bargains and Debts

This is Part 10 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.

Never strike a bargain with a monster. You will, most likely, get turned into one yourself, or get eaten by one. I didn’t like those options. But did I have a choice?

Before I had a chance to think, let alone answer, there was an ear-splitting crash in the twilight above. The monstrous sea-snake screamed before engaging in magical battle. I darted for cover to avoid getting caught in the spell-storm.

There was nowhere to hide, but for a slight depression in the cliff-face; it could hardly be called a cave. But there I sought refuge, and waited.

It was dawn when the storm ceased. I stumbled out of my shelter, surprised by the calm brightness all about me. Of the sea-snake there was no sign.

Arastia waited for me on the shore. ‘I have saved you, Lyr, from the scheming of sea-serpents.’ She smiled. ‘You owe me a debt.’

Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #10 – And this week, I am exactly equal to the max word limit of 150!  Yay!