M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 58
September 22, 2020
Stay
The dent of the mattress, the rustling of sheets. These aren’t the things that wake him, nor the cool air blasting in from the window creaked open in the middle of the night. It’s the wrapping of arms around his waist from behind, the sigh of home that’s breathed into his neck, and the soft kiss to the back of his ear, with the mumble of, I didn’t mean to wake you.
“Ross,” Adam says as he stretches against him, curling into his heat.
A hand squeezes firmer around his waist, then presses flat a...
September 21, 2020
The One Thing
If the one thing you’re constantly running from is you,
Where do you go? What do you do?
If the one thing, the only thing, about which you’re sure
Is unobtainable, and not a thing to procure?
If the one thing is a thoughtless thought, but all that you know,
What do you say? Where do you go?
If the one thing is not one thing, but an overall fear,
Why do you stay? What are you doing here?
If the one thing from which you are trying to hide
Is the song you keep replaying inside?
If the one thing...
September 20, 2020
The Clamps
In a post-Apocalyptic London exists a Workhouse for all of those who have nowhere else to go, where services are exchanged for shelter. There’s nowhere safer: even the beds have their own special form of security. Ask the children. They have a story to tell.
It was the kind of story that kept you pinned down in terror and the younger children believed in full fear, while the older boasted of their bravado and pretended they had no fear at all.
The beds strewn with blood and tell-ta...
September 19, 2020
Sport
Take your favourite, noisiest sport.
It doesn’t matter which, so long as there’s a crowd –
The bigger, the brasher, the better.
If there’s hooligans, they’re welcome too. Now,
Shrink them down. Make them miniscule,
Microscopic, yet still speaking at full volume, seeing red.
Gather them up together like you’re collecting frogspawn
And deposit them all inside my head.
On the loudest days, they’re all in there.
And all of their hate and rage and taunting is turned on ...
Whatever Comes First
Matthew isn’t looking for a relationship. Ask him, and he’ll say it’s because between work and studying there’s just no time. Ask his best friend, Sarah, and the story is a little different and involves a failed relationship that left him raw.
Enter Joel, a childhood friend of Sarah’s recently back in the area. He’s not looking for love, either, but he’s not averse to the idea of a little fun. Uncomplicated and on the same page: what could possibly go wrong?
buy here!
September 18, 2020
Solitary
It is only if you looked into the depths of the poorly lit pub that you would see him.
In the corner at the back of this near-empty establishment is a small alcove, or snug if you will, lined with weighty tomes, heavily-varnished oak panelling and thick, dusty green curtains.
He sits prone, legs outstretched on the old leather sofa with a well-thumbed book on his knee and a bookmark in his hand that he absentmindedly taps a rhythm with on the back of the sofa.
His head is turned tow...
Time For Turning
It used to be that shades of red through brown
Tinting the sky signalled the start of the most colourful season,
With bright, orange shades, and crisp, fallen leaves, and
The coziness of warmer layers as reprieve
From the long, summer heat.
Walks in the park were a treasure hunt for colours,
Catching the last hint of green just before it turns.
The sun would glint off thinning trees,
Their autumnal beauty in late afternoon breathtaking,
Capturing many an artist’s heart.
Today, orange skies have a diff...
