top of page


Yes Indeed, Author - Reader - Together we make a great team.

I remember the first time I heard the word – Drabble. It sounded unusual, to say the least, and at first I thought it was a joke. How wrong I was.

Drabbles suddenly, and without any feelings for my future writing, leapt into my mind and refused to disappear. I wrote a few, and a few more and within a couple of weeks I was the fish struggling on the end of a large, but very addictive hook.

They were so easy to write, or so I thought, yet reality soon hit home after reading great Drabbles from other devotees. I’m a tenacious bugger though and refused to be beaten so I knuckled down and started anew.

Any story has a beginning, a middle and an end. A Drabble is no different, yet with exactly one hundred words to play with - excluding the title – all superfluous words must be erased as the author pares back to the bones.

And like the stars twinkling in the night sky I allowed my imagination to freely wander into a tiny world of 100 words. The sun shone, my smile grew as Drabble tales appeared on my computer.

Winning an international Drabble competition with Spectral Morning was a massive achievement. But being asked to write one in support of missing children in the USA was very rewarding as so many people contacted me to say how much they had loved my poem, come Drabble.

Both of these two Drabbles are shown here as well as a couple of brand new flash fiction tales and an old favourite of mine.

I’d love to know your thoughts.


As the dew gently caressed the leaves in the wood, a soft light slowly grew in luminance.

The coalescing sparkles began to take the shape of a young girl.

A pure white gown swished and swirled around her as she moved towards the graveyard, her slender feet leaving no tracks in the soft soil.

The fresh grave had been hastily re-filled but all her attention was focused on the sobbing cries of a terrified infant.

Holding out her hands to the cold earth, she spoke soothingly.

“Come forth you beautiful child, for I will take you to your true home.”


Some time ago, I was asked to contribute to a scheme highlighting the plight of neglected and abused children in the USA. My Little Runaway immediately jumped into my head for I deplore man’s inhumanity to man and as a father and grandfather, I loathe any cruelty to children.


Where are you going to my little runaway?

There’s only pain today.

Is it true you are lost my precious runaway?

Just hunger pangs today.

There’s no one at home who understands you.

So how will you cope in the cold and the dark?

Your world so empty.

Your life so sad.

There are no answers little runaway.

Where will you be sleeping tonight?

There are no sympathies precious runaway.

So how will you feel tonight?

But maybe tomorrow will be brighter.

For maybe your star will shine.

So turn around my little runaway.

Heaven’s too full of your kind.


Humans are very stupid creatures. She doesn’t want to go out as the rain is pissing down, but apparently, I need the exercise and a poo.

Am I begging to be released from my comfortable doggie bed in front of the fire? Has she checked her pristine lawn recently?

Only a fool would continue walking in this thunderstorm, but what can I do? She who must be obeyed thinks she has me on a tight lead, but, is that a cat?

I pulled, she fell, and unleashed my instincts took over.

Shame the spray from the passing lorry soaked her.


I wasn’t always so passionate about chocolate but taste changes.

Now it’s a wonderful feeling whenever I savour the unforgettable flavour.

Dark, milk, or even white, I devour them all. You should see my credit card bill.

Less of a glutton and I’d live a long life but not now, for the sound is coming closer and they’re too late.

Taking my final bite sends a wave of euphoria surging through my body. My eyes close and I pray.

My addiction will temporarily pause in transit,

yet will return to overpower me once more,

for isn’t Heaven full of chocolate?


“Mum, I want a dog for Christmas.”

“Of course darling but you’ll have to care for it. You know how busy we all are.”

On a cold winter’s day, young Thomas took his new friend Spot for a walk in the snow. Thirty minutes later the two returned, sitting close together around the lounge fire.

Three years on and Spot sat on the window sill, wagging his tail as Thomas came home from school.

A quick pat on the head and Thomas disappeared into his bedroom.

Overweight and under-loved, another of man’s best friends sat lonely in a ‘full’ house.

To see more simply click below.

Featured Posts
Recent Posts
Search By Tags
Follow Us
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • Twitter Basic Square
  • Google+ Basic Square
bottom of page