Category Archives: ShiverWriggle Creates

Eglantine

By: everylittlething   Sarah crossed and uncrossed her legs as she listened to the music.  She was aware of a connection.  She recognised notes in sequences she had never knowingly heard before.  She was able to predict the theme as … Continue reading

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Edwin Through A Child’s Eyes

By: Lydia Crow   Originally written for: 2011 Trees for Life Charity Exhibition.   I can’t remember what he looked like, now. I’ve forgotten the detail of his features. In my mind, his face is as worn and rough as … Continue reading

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Anu of the Forest

By: Lydia Crow   Originally written for: 2011 Trees for Life Charity Exhibition.   With skin so soft beneath the bark And resin coated hair, The freshest sap runs through her veins; She is always there. Never sleeping, ever true, … Continue reading

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Dawning

By: everylittlething   The wind pushed through the gaps in the old house making eerie sounds and demonstrating real power. Cobwebs fluttered in the face of it and dust settled in its wake. There was no one there. Spiders hugged … Continue reading

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Waking

By: everylittlething   The young mother cradled her little one close to her breast and thought that human love could never be deeper than this. For many months she had been aware that her behaviour, her lifestyle, would affect the … Continue reading

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New 6-blade razor unexpectedly brings about overnight demise of global capitalism

By: Patrick   In a move that slipped under the radar of even the most shrewd economic analysts, yesterday’s launch of the new 6-blade ‘Synthesix’ razor by UK-based company Wilkinson Sword inadvertently led to the overnight collapse of global capitalism, … Continue reading

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My Scar

By: Lydia Crow   I don’t tell people now. It’s not that I want to hear the sick jokes, but I hate the embarrassed sideways look when someone remembers you. They don’t know you, they only know the scar you … Continue reading

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Bread

By: everylittlething   The old woman cycled in zigzags along the ribbon of road that gave an edge to the wood.  She was dressed completely in black.  It was a hot summer’s day but even her stockings were black.  The … Continue reading

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No Rest for the Wicked

By: James   “Harper, you bastard!” That bastard Harper’s been at it again. Give me strength. Listen to him, scurrying about like some sort of teenager whose furious masturbation session has been abruptly cut short by a grandparental intrusion. To … Continue reading

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Chemocracy Coma

By: Lydia Crow   “I’m just saying, I think it’s an awesome name for a band.” The three of them were all sprawled on the sofa, long legs stretched out in front of them, and gazing at the same spot on … Continue reading

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