Silverlink Writing Group: The Writers


 Jane R-M


Back in the murky depths of the 1980’s, a horse mad teen wrote an imaginatively titled epic – My Dream Pony – and sent it off with wishful thoughts to Horse and Pony.  They duly published it, along with the worst author’s mug shot the world has ever seen.  The resulting furore sent her scurrying underground, and she began a guerrilla writing campaign until crawling out of the closet as a tragic poet and epic fantasy writer (at least that’s the theory)!  Twenty five years after that hapless horse tale, she’s blinking in the sunshine and enjoying mixing with likeminded people at Silverlink Writers Group.  She stills scurries into the dark to hide on occasion, but spies tell us that really, she’s doing just fine with just the odd nip of gin. 

Here are a some samples of my work.

Page last up dated 2 November 2009


Silverlink Writing Group Competition October 2009:- 500 words starting with:- A bunch of flowers and a box lay on the doorstep...

Word Count =495

RUNNER UP  of the Silverlink Writing Group

Competition September 2009


Hidden Death of Tulips


             A bunch of flowers and a box lay on the doorstep.  There was a slight odour emanating from the box, a scent that caused Cherry to pucker her mouth into a moue of distaste.

              I watched her reaction curiously: surely she’d open it and have done.  Normally she’d be tearing the paper of such a beautifully presented trophy, expensive cream paper to match the luxurious cream flowers. 

              Yet her glance was cursory and she astonished me further when she delicately stepped over the box and into her hallway.

              I couldn’t help it, I stooped to look further.  The paper was thick and expensive to the touch, a light spicy perfume catching the back of my throat.  Strange, that it were female.  A bold hand had written the card, simple and sweet – Cherry, with a heart at the bottom stroke of the ‘y’. 

              The flowers were cream tulips, apparent symphonies of prettiness with their drooping bell heads until you caught a glimpse at the shielded insides where the petals unfolded.  Within, they were stained indigo black with bold yellow stamens forcing their way towards the day.  The juxtaposition of light and shade unnerved me so intensely that I dropped the flowers clumsily, and one broke from its stem to lie sadly before me, its core of darkness hidden from view.

              I gazed at it foolishly, until warm fingers circled my wrist and I blinked upwards to meet Cherry’s violet gaze, her mouth twisted with a self mocking smile.

              ‘Rowan, its best you let it go.’

              ‘What’s in the box?’

              ‘Can’t you guess?’

              I couldn’t, not through the disorientation of the perfume.  She sighed impatiently and clicked her heels.

              ‘It’s her heart.  I broke it; she sent me it.  Seems appropriate enough, don’t you think?’

              ‘Her heart?’  I sounded stupid to my own ears. ‘And you’re going to leave it there?’

              ‘Well, I sure don’t want what’s in that box.  Never date a witch, Rowan, their gifts come with curses.’  With that she spun about on a three inch heel and vanished into the hallway.

              I stepped uneasily over the innocuous looking box to follow her, when I became aware of more than just the smell.

              The box, it was beating a constant rhythm.  Steadily: ta-dum, ta-dum.

              Just then she reappeared, pulling me gracelessly to stand behind her as my own heart pumped a frantic dance.

              And she skewered the little box on one delicate heel, grinding until the creamy parchment soaked pink and the only sound left to be heard was that of my own fevered breathing as I leaned against the wall in horror.

              She turned to face me, shaking her head ruefully.

              ‘Going to take a bit more than elbow grease to get this girl offa my boots this time, sweetie.  Cup of tea?’

              And I followed her mutely as ever, but felt for the first time my spellbound heart beginning to thrash against its bindings even as I accepted her scant offerings gratefully.



Silverlink Writing Group Competition August 2009:- 500 words starting with:- The heat shimmered above the road, it had not rained in weeks...

Word Count = 497

Paradise Lost


       The heat shimmered above the road, it had not rained in weeks. Cherry pursed her lips as she watched the tarmac curve below her, tapping a small foot impatiently against an inoffensive rock.  A cloud of dust patterned her black suede boots and she exclaimed in disgust as it clung to the fibres.

            I couldn’t help it: I snorted with laughter at her displeasure.  Cherry was altogether a little too self adoring even for me.  And I loved the girl.

            She whipped about smartly, the cloud of black hair floating about her thin shoulders like black dandelion fluff in the haze, the blackcurrant lip-gloss bitten under her frown.

            “It’s ok for you!”  Pretty sapphire eyes she has, like night stars reversed in the paleness of her face. 

            I lay back, settling myself a little more comfortably against the front of the wall and squinted up at her in the fierce morning sunlight. “Cherry, it’ll be alright.”

            She was biting a nail now, fully focused on me for one glorious moment that reminded me exactly why I’d been sat at the bottom of her drive since six am that morning. 

            “You don’t get it, Rowan.  It’s been months, years even.  What if it doesn’t happen like it should?  What if they hated everything? What if-”

            “What if everything you’ve been dreaming of arrives like manna from heaven just like you planned, and the whole world opens up before you like a bowl of….cherries?!”

            I ducked.  The rock sailed past my head with impressive accuracy to clank off the wall behind me, dislodging the top brick so that it skewed to an improbable angle and promptly decapitated one of her mother’s prized delphiniums.

            “Now look what you made me do!”

            I laughed harder, hoping she’d jump on me and pummel me ever so slightly with fury, just to feel those birdlike fingers against my skin.

            Then she heard it, the clash of gears alerting her to the van’s presence at the foot of the estate, followed by silence as the driver stopped and began to wend his way slowly through the dense estate. 

            I stood behind her, grimacing at the kinks in my knees, then the girl startled me by grasping my hands to pull them about her shoulders like a giant shaggy security blanket.  I rested my chin on her head, breathing deeply of her fierceness. 

            Then we both looked up sharply.  Rain, pattering out of nowhere, cloud dense above her garden. 

            “It’s a sign.”

            I didn’t answer but watched the man resplendent in his red and blue uniform stride toward her, thick envelope in hand.

            Cherry snatched it gracelessly as the summer rain began to cascade down our faces, and her wet fingers fumbled the envelope, face hidden beneath that shining sheaf of hair.

            Then she turned illuminated, her lips wild and triumphant as she wordlessly communicated her joy to me.

Even as I savoured the taste I knew the girl was lost to me. 


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