The Seven Gadflies of Socrates

A Poem TWG Theme: Protest My Title: The Seven Gadflies of Socrates. ___________________________________________________________________________ Webmasters note. For the full experiance of this poem, please follow the

The Table

PROTEST! – FICTION – The Table   “What the hell do you think you’re playing at!  SELL IT! OVER MY DEAD BODY! It belongs to

Pull The Plug on Pokies

In July 2017 Queenslanders set a new record. In that one month more than $215 million was lost by Queenslanders playing the pokies. That loss

Sunday. Bloody Sunday

Ekaterinburg, Tuesday, July 16, 1918 We waited in the cellar. That hot, stifling cellar. It was the dead of night. How many times we checked

“I don’t want to go to The Crossing.”

“I don’t want to go to The Crossing.” Rebekah pouted at her father. It was Friday. What used to be called Spring. Time for crops

Scruffy and The Crossing

It started the day of The Green Bag. It had been Blue Bag, Blue Bag, Blue Bag for years, ever since I came. Come in,

The Crossing – A Poem

He silently sobbed as he huddled in the trench With mud up to his knees and a God-awful stench Of bodies and shit and rats

The Crossing – It’s Cancer *

Crossing. Short story. Words: 560 ‘It’s cancer,’ the specialist said, peering over the top of his spectacles at me. ‘As we suspected.’ We? Not me.

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