Moon Desert
Bio
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.
Sylvia Plath
Stories (984)
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Bird Cemetery. Top Story - January 2022.
News 16th July Story of the day Madame La Fayette led her daughter by the hand as she struggled to break free from her mother's tight grip. The little girl was dressed in a barn owl costume, ready for her first ever stage performance. She ruffled up her feathers from pieces of brown-orange fabric sewn into the carboard by her mother. Mia felt that these feathers could lift her up to the sky, and her mother was just pulling her into the ground, which was not a pleasant experience. The other children were disguised as different birds, tempting with the colours of their feathers: the furious blue, green, yellow, and orange of peacocks and parrots; grey of pigeons; the brown shade of sparrows; and the black intensity of ravens. All the kids were just as excited as they were on their first day of school, except this time the stake was much nicer and funnier.
By Moon Desert4 years ago in Fiction
What Henrietta Saw
Henrietta was still in bed. It was early morning on Boxing Day. All the birds woke up in the forest, announcing their awakening with a volume and brightness equal to that of New Year's Eve fireworks. She rubbed her eyes from a dream she thought had haunted her last night, but a sharp glance at the bedside table immediately brought back memories. There were several books about nature and the forest under the blue Anglepoise lamp, which she read endlessly until the door opened. Beside them lay a few presents carelessly wrapped in plain grey paper, staring curiously at the woman, as did her greyhound, freshly awakened and lured to his mistress’s bed.
By Moon Desert4 years ago in Fiction
