Almost famous

I've been quiet here for a while now. But this week has been a big one: I have had my first piece of flash fiction published.

It's called Bog Standard and it's super short but it's quirky and I like it, and you can read it in the shake of a baby lamb's tail.

This week I have also had my final wisdom tooth out, and just this minute I've found out I'm getting another short story published, this time online and in print so I can look at it both on the screen and in a frame, hehe.

So basically I figure that right now I'm almost famous.

Welcome to a PROUD Madrid

"I don't need sex, the goverment screws me every day"

This is me. I'm the tall one

I hope you liked the pics. Come again soon.

It is she

It is she
I am me
I am
The new girl in town

Shooting stars

It’s like you’re a child running after a kite that’s
Just slipped out of your hand
And it's right there, so close you can
Touch it, but no, it tickles your fingertips and saunters in the air,
Higher, higher,
Just out of your reach

Or like looking into a kaleidoscope and seeing
What you think you can see and being sure
That’s what you can see but as
Soon as you’re sure, it’s gone,
And then it’s back and then it’s gone
Again -

Or like star gazing -
When you’re lying on the road next to your cousins
Searching for shooting stars and
Just when you can see the saucepan
Everyone’s whooping and laughing because they’ve seen
The shooting star

Or like in a dream when you’re running
And running, and you never get tired,
And you don’t know where you’re going
Or why you’re running,
But it doesn’t matter because you know you’re almost there.
Well that’s you - chasing dreams.

Poor Old Tom

Poor old Tom has a limp.
Something happened on his ramblings
Last night, and now he can't walk.
His paw is all swollen and red but
Poor Old Tom has a bad temper  so no-one
Can get a good look at him.
Take him to the vet, I say.
Listen, he says, all dogs die,
And it's Tom's time now.