There was something magical in the air. The mingled scent of sea salt, of fresh rain, and of freshly fell vegetation. The local songbirds twittered in a crescendo of mourning for their home, as autumn beguiled the woods into early retirement.
Kenny Rogers had not been to the old family home in northern County Down for almost ten years. Yet, now returned, he felt a sudden onrush of familiarity and poignant nostalgia. He recalled many summers spent in this beautiful country, exploring the gentle slopes, wood, and thicket, from as far as the old Torr Road down to the rocky cliffs and pebbled seaside. Continue reading “Kenny of Cruithin (short story excerpt)”
The Dean of Students, Sir Alden Chandler, removed his reading glasses and neatly tucked them within the breast pocket of his wool jacket. He laced his fingers together upon the large oak desk and adopted a smile that squirmed uncomfortably within the congress of grayed whiskers. “According to my records, you have applied to Cambridge ten times beforehand, Mr. Sullivan Sibbs.”
Continue reading “A Most Successful Failure (short story)”
The so-called beach in this small town that I found myself in was no more than a sandbank. The gravelly sand rose abruptly from the still waters. Discarded trash and grey, lifeless tree limbs were abundant. To my surprise, there was a large crowd of people strewn about, each as if poolside at a vacation resort.
My feet sank deep into the sand at every step, the shoes I was wearing an unfitting defense for the damp, invading particles. Trudging along as I did, I finally spotted the reason for my visit. Continue reading “Mentor (short story)”
Oh, little creatures underfoot
What I could do, but don’t want to
Sing for me, sweet birds, alone
If no one else will listen
Continue reading “Little Creatures (poem)”