Non-Fiction - Stories

Poetry. Hopefully some good!

This is in the memory of a dear freind lost in the violence of war.

Reflections of the past, realities of the present, and hopes for the future. These aren't prompts, and anything could wind up here, from poetry to monologues. It's all about words, and the forms they lead us to.

This is a collection of very short stories, that I had written over thirty years ago, when I first started to write, and they are recollections of real events that took place on the farm where I grew up in Western Australia.

Preston aka Quokka

One man's journey to self-realization. I’ve been sort of stuck on the current active stories, not having the freedom to type as much. So I dusted off an autobiographical entry I’d written for a secret author event that I never used. All of what you’re about to read, should you decide to do so, is true.

In the halls of a parochial boys’ school in Westchester County, a teenager carries a secret he has no language for and no one to share it with. Convinced he is the only gay kid among eight hundred boys, he navigates a world that would condemn him for simply being himself.
Out of those eight hundred, one boy stops him cold.
A brutally honest account of obsession, longing, and the cruelty of desire that must remain invisible, and a single sentence that could have changed everything.

Poems and verse for those who have passed from this life.

I wrote this in response to PT Prompt #311: "Write about how you handle negative situations."

CONTENT WARNING: This response contains references to domestic abuse.

Yes, this is personal.

It's also, quite literally, the least gay thing I've posted on GA.

Reader discretion advised, because I had absolutely none to begin with.

This is an account of actual events from the perspective of the person who experienced it - me...

An open letter to my friend Comicality. May he rest in peace.