The red dust came from desert skies sanded the paper and screens of the press caught in the eyes of conspiracy freaks piled up the stress of Western dreams grazed the feet of measured prose stormed the sounds of drum and song covered the rows of memorial crosses and all their long-remembered losses tickled theContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘The Red Dust’”
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100-Word Fiction: ‘Red Thread’
Was there a time before the freedoms that still endure, before the storms that swept the sands, where what we watched unfold bore some resemblance to reality? Once, I think, after the first of the degradations had been suffered, we still imagined the aimless orbit of missiles around the void of an ethical centre. NotContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘Red Thread’”
MW Bewick 