John Bolland

Stories

Stories

There ought to be something clever to say about stories. I've read something and practiced somewhat and out of it all...

I dislike stories. I dislike their roundness - their encapsulation.

I prefer texts. They seem to offer LATITUDE.

Mood interests me. Moment interests me. Character. Atmosphere. Location.

And yet this need to tell...stories. Shapely narratives proposing meaning.

Here is the catachism.

Otherwise.....why bother? Judge then...

Featured Short Story

Brown Sugar

Sometimes he tasted sweet when he came home. Alice would lick the sticky white powder from his neck and shoulders as Tommy stood before the sink to wash. Her mother caught her at it once, her tongue tip stretched like a kitten’s towards the cream.

“Children’ll change things,” Mum said. But children never came and Tommy still came home dusted with sugar. He thought it was him all along, him and her a slut for him, married or not. But it was that skim of sweetness she had never gotten over since that first surprising kiss.

To read more of this text follow the link to Brown Sugar

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