My first thought, as always, was for the children, for my beloved Todd and Rod, but soon after waking I realised it was wrong— wrong to lying here alone, without Ned beside me; wrong to be awake at all—

She said she wanted something pretty on her skin, so he made a book mark of the backing paper from a temporary tattoo. While she admired the bleeding heart on her arm he went back to his saved page: "Our

The Fifty Word Story Contest Is Currently In its 19th Week The Aim of this Contest is to ensure the Continuity of Steemit by encouraging New Steemians who just came on board the Platform. This contest

Two minutes is all it takes to listen to my spooky little poem, recorded with a backing track of crickets. I know, I know - no one likes poetry, not even poets, but it's two minutes and really is, I reckon,

... and hello Steemians. I'm a larval writer from The South Pacific, working hard to pupate into an author. Which probably means I'll share some of my fiction here. It's winter here at the moment. My part