How fantastic to begin the year with such a varied and interesting selection of BRAND NEW WRITING from Lockerbie Writers and beyond!
Thanks again to our fantastic member, Angela Haigh, for submitting a photograph of the moon over Lockerbie. I loved it as soon as I saw it, and it certainly has had you thinking!
Here is a selection of our very favourite pieces, inspired by Angela’s photo.
‘Just Because’ by Konstantina Sozou-Kyrkou
Just because you’re the closest to earth
You think you can beat the sun,
Sucking up gleams of the real blaze,
Toil to shed light on hidden corners
Esoteric niches, windswept edges,
Sneak into window louvers and barred doors.
All you can do is
Cast shadows over freshly framed sheds
Mist over fertile land
Frost over springing grass,
Smudge the horizon with
A faultily sharpened pencil.
No true rays there to shield you
From the sun’s absence,
From the deepest desire,
Prepare you for the total eclipse
The whole of earth will bring.
‘Night Stroll’ by Laura Mason
I had always loved walking at night through the village. To many it was just eerie in the darkness, especially in the winter, and they chose to stroll on the summer nights. I had to say I was glad, that way I had the village winter nights all to myself. Tonight was no exception, with the bitterness in the breeze that February often brought and the cloudy skies. I shivered and pulled my coat closer around me. I entered the church yard and looked to the moon, it might be full but not much light was cast with church in the way. I lowered my eyes and looked to the graveyard, and saw the figure from beyond approach. I had no time to react, only to think. Maybe summer strolls would have been better after all.
‘Count Smoothie’ by Deborah Redden
When I applied to be Dracula’s assistant leech, my excitement was immeasurable. What’s not to love, right? There’s no better job for a parasitic worm! Oh, the dreams I had; those long slender necks I’d feast upon when my master’s fangs grew tired!
Now imagine my shock when I found it wouldn’t be so, and that the 552nd Count required my suckers for fruit and veg alone! That’s right, you heard me, old pale face has gone vegetarian! Blood makes him faint. FAINT!
‘No offense, Countie,’ I said ‘but this isn’t for me…if it’s a juicer you want, contact my good friend Ken Worm-Wood….I believe he’s great for juicing! I’ll leave his card by the fruit bowl.’
‘Moon’ by Stephanie Newham
We suited each other, this place and I. It was a shabby hotel. I had a first-floor room with a view of the church. An uncomfortable room with a single bed, sheets cold to the touch. I took a last walk. I’d finished mourning; I no longer had any desire to cling to the dead. What had tempted me back here?
I thrust my hands into my pockets, watched the moon guild the church spire as I entered the churchyard. I sat on a cold stone, took the photograph from my pocket. In the dimness I traced her face, my finger faltered on her lips. My heart closed tight, choking me. I sat for a while as the moon followed its course – a slight breeze stirred; bound me in a mossy dampness that sent me back to the hotel and a brandy.
I slipped between the cold sheets. Other nights had been worse; on other nights there had been no moon.
Inspired to write?
Check out our Monthly Writing Challenge page
for the March prompt!