My Words, My World

First drafts – A few pages in the large wilderness of the world of writing

Archive for the tag “whisky”

18 Jan 2025
4 Comments

99-word fiction: The stranger – part II

Following last week’s story, someone (I’ll mention no names but she’s called Sharon…) asked me what happened next. I went to find out…

The stranger stood at the bar, his coat tight around him. The bell chimed as the door opened. He turned.

A woman entered. Her wet hat and coat shone in the light and steam soon rose from them. At the bar she ordered vodka. She turned to the stranger then nodded to a small table in the dark corner and he followed her. They sat.

“I think you’ve something for me,” she said.

The stranger shook his head and smiled. Frowning, she opened her coat enough so he could see the gun.

“You’ve ten seconds to change your mind.”

Posted in 99-word fiction, 99-words, dark fiction, Flash Fiction, Short Fiction Stories, Writing and tagged , , , , , , ,
11 Jan 2025
3 Comments

99-word fiction – The stranger

The stranger stepped in out of the rain. He wore a trench coat, hat and looked like he needed a gun. He ordered a double whisky. He removed his hat and his wet face shone with the light from the bar mirror. The old men playing poker at the corner table ignored him with straight faces. The barman cleaned glasses with a cloth. The stranger sipped his whisky.

He kept his coat on and wrapped it tighter around himself, as if he could keep the world’s evils from getting in.

Or to keep his own evils from getting out.

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Posted in 99-word fiction, 99-words, Flash Fiction, Writing and tagged , , , , , ,
24 Feb 2022
5 Comments

Lungs

I woke up the next morning,

mouthful of strong cigarettes and bad whisky.

My lungs felt like lead weights.

I coughed;

it sounded like Tom Waits, singing in the gutter,

so I knew there was hope.

Posted in Free verse, morning, words and tagged , , , , , , ,
31 Mar 2018

and all that jazz

Ivory tinkle
bass string pull
tic, tic, tic of the cymbal
as the brush sweeps the beat
toe-tap hep-cat
blowing sax
blow Bird, blow
woodwind winding out to meet me
reviving me
like a cold water splash to my face
or the clink of ice in my whisky

Posted in Free verse, Jazz, Music, poem, poet, Poetry, words, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
29 Jan 2018

Through the haze

The world sags like a winter willow branch
and everything is sick and poisoned
and the air is noxious
and the ground is broken
and the jaundiced sun can’t see through the haze
and the haze is man-made
a man-made haze
the end of days
but don’t worry
it’s the size of the button that counts
and there’s always oil where the buffalo once roamed
I know that haze
it’s 500 million men dancing in the fumes of the dollar, the pound, the shekel.
Don’t forget the ruble, comrade.
What’s next off the production line, Jack?
What other piece of useless shit is being bagged and boxed?
As the hordes unfurl their sleeping bags outside the flagship store
Are they fucking serious?
Is this all for real?
As the jaundiced sun looks down
and tries to see through the haze.
Hand me that bottle, Jack,
at least we can recycle it when we’re done.

Posted in Blog, Free verse, poem, poet, Poetry, words, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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