Halloween is just so much hokum, a trick designed to part the gullible from their money. The fansy dress industry does well. Fake blood and vampire’s fangs fly off the shelves while kids pester the neighbourhood with Trick Or Treat.

At the dead of night we are not so sure. What is that shadow which keeps pace as we walk home from that Halloween Party? That unearthly scream setting the hairs on the back of your neck astir is, surely a cat yowling for it’s mate, isn’t it? You quicken your pace just in case.

Cutting through the churchyard will knock 5 minutes off your journey. In the brightness of day you would have no hesitation so why now do you hesitate to enter? The dead after all can not hurt you, “tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil”.

You enter the churchyard resisting the almost overwhelming temptation to glance over your shoulder. Laughter in the darkest corner of the graveyard. Oh sweet Jesus why did I walk through here. Logic tells you it is merely an amourous couple who, unable to contain their desire have chosen this place to satiate their lust but, still you run blindly tripping over gravestones until at last the gate is reached. Locked! Desperately you climb, trousers rip on the gate’s spiked top, you are beyond caring. You jump down on the other side and with heart racing run the last few hundred yards to home.

Come the bright morning you laugh at yesterday’s escapades. My imagination ran riot but still, somewhere deep in your subconscious the nagging doubts remain.

Early Morning Call

The below is dedicated to the person who rang me at halfpast 2 this morning from a withheld number.




Why do you ring me at halfpast two? Tell me, please do.

The sound of my mobile echoing around, dragging me from sleep profound.

I answered the phone, no one there, cursing inwardly I return to my lair.

Whoever you are, whatever you do, refrain from calling me at halfpast two!


There is nothing like an invigorating shower to wake one up in the morning. Mine is an electric one and it’s powerful spray soon has the sleep cleared from my eyes and yours truly raring to go! Yesterday morning however the shower had slowed to a mere trickle meaning that my ablutions took somewhat longer than usual. I had visions of having to pay for a new unit as mine is rather elderly. The hassle of shopping for shower units, finding someone to plumb in the unit etc had me groaning inwardly.

On returning home yesterday evening I reached into the shower, fully clothed to see whether it had, somehow made a miraculous recovery. A powerful jet of water soaked both my shirt and the bathroom carpet. My shower is, I am pleased to report well and truly working! Additionally the soaking of my shirt thoroughly invigorated me after a hard day in my central London office. I would recommend my experience to anyone. After a day slaving away just put your arm inside the shower, (not bothering to disrobe prior to doing so). Don’t bother to check whether the shower is facing outwards (towards you and the bathroom carpet), just turn it on and, hey presto your fatigue will vanish in a veritable waterfall!


Yours ever,

A Duck

The Affair

Richard felt that familiar frisson as he pulled Julie close. The smell of her hair, scented with jasmine sent his pulse off the scale. He never tired of gazing into those blue eyes, they held oceans of desire in which he could swim forever.

The illicit nature of the affair was, Richard thought part of it’s attraction. His girlfriend, Susie sat in the room next door watching television, blissfully unaware of the betrayal which was taking place virtually under her nose. The thought of his girlfriend catching him in the act made Richard feel sick with fear and desire.

Richard was addicted. He had reached that stage in his addiction in which the only way to deal with his feelings of guilt was to drown them by plunging ever deeper into the inviting waters of lust. Fully immersed, Richard gave way with desperate abandon to his desires. Julie had no limits, they had engaged in acts which Susie would never entertain in a thousand years.

“I love you, I love you” Julie moaned as Richard’s hands explored her perfect body.

She was his ideal girl. They never argued. Julie’s perfectly manicured nails, her immaculately styled long brown hair and those ideally proportioned breasts (not to big and not to small) where just as Richard desired them to be.

Richard knew that he could never become bored with this beautiful girl and, in the extremely unlikely event that their relationship became stale he could always purchase another of the increasingly life-like sexbots which the mid 21st century had to offer.

Why risk sexually transmitted diseases when one could have your perfect virtual girlfriend made to order? No danger with a virtual girl of her becoming jealous of your other partner. Julie would be making no calls in the dead of night, there would be no incriminating texts for Susie to discover on Richard’s mobile. It was, he thought the perfect solution, an affair without guilt accept, for some unaccountable reason Richard’s conscience gnawed away at him.

“You’re a bloody doll. Well a highly developed one but still a damn doll. This means nothing. Absolutely nothing” Richard whispered in Julie’s ear so as not to be overheard by his girlfriend next door.

Was it a trick of the light or where Julie’s eyes swimming with tears?



Susie sat, her head pillowed on Jon’s shoulder. Softly she traced his strong jawline.

“I love you Susie”, Jon said, gently taking her face in his hands and planting a tender kiss on Susie’s lips.

Guilty desire welled up in Susie. Richard was in the room next door, what if he where to come in and see her in the arms of another man. He would never forgive her. Lust and common sense contended in Susie’s breast. Then, as is so often the case hot lust triumphed over staid rationality.

With a moan Susie grasped Jon to her. “It’s only a sexbot” Susie thought as she released the great tide of desire pent up inside her.

Anthology To Raise Money For Guide Dogs – An Update And A Request

This post is by way of an update on the anthology to raise money for the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association (GDBA), the UK based charity which trains dogs for the blind without receiving any financial support from the government. Thus far I have received contributions from the following people:

Sue Vincent – http://scvincent.com/

Kev Cooper – http://kevs-domain.net/

Anju – http://cupitonians.wordpress.com/ and

Sally Cronin – http://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/


Many thanks to Sally, Kev, Anju and Sue for their contributions. Thanks also go to Dave Higgins who is editing the anthology free of charge and to everyone who has offered to provide a story, poem or other contribution. The anthology is still in need of contributions. If you can provide a poem, story or other animal (preferably dog related but it doesn’t have to be) content then please do get in touch. You can contact me by e-mail at newauthoronline (at) gmail . com (the address is rendered in this manner to try and defeat spammers).





This is a beautiful poem and I would recommend checking out Brandy’s other poems.

Originally posted on Awkward Girl.:

Sweet fall
Come and take me away
Towards the dark womb of winter
Kill the light of summer
And chase the sun astray

Beautiful fall
Come and take me away
Towards the dark womb of November
Lay down your veil of leaves
And bless us with your shade

View original


The singing of a blackbird stops me dead in my tracks. Enraptured by his music I stand wallowing in beauty.

The cloak of evening softly creeps over the land. His music continues and still I stand.

“Are you OK?” a voice, as from another world asks.

“Yes” I reply.

The magic broken I go on my way.

He, later to family perhaps,

“I saw a strange man today. He stood, head cocked, listening to I know not what”.