http://slow.writerscafe.org/aimz99 The original writings of author Aimee Holt en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775990602 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Blog piece from my life http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/2033110/ Istepped back for the sound of metal on metal, the rush of air and redpaint.  The 18:45 was two minutes behind schedule.  I had savouredthose ticking moments and watched a couple of pigeons hassle one another alongthe platform.  His face swam into my work sodden mind and heat .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1645238/ Short poem about a journey in the night. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1429929/ Red should be blood,green should be jealousy.But colours cannot spell out,how much I hate you.Take no more and take no lessbecause I have nothing left.I just want to turnred into roses and green into colour. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1057918/ A stiff upper lipsoftened by drizzle.A hardy frownmelted with wellies.A ruddy complexiona welcome replacement.Clouds of fresh airthe perfect cleanser.The Tamworth pigslike leaves in autumn. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1057301/ its not finished yet! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1057299/ “What can you tell me about this dream?”  Dr Otswold enquired; carefully slicing theend of his cigar before taking it between his teeth and striking a match.  Michael cowered inhis leather chair.  He licked his drylips slowly, delaying his response.“Mic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1055319/ DamienI watched the sweat dripdown the walls.  Black walls slick withexcitement and energy.  I could taste thefoul drop in the back of my throat; a second hit from my burning nostril.  I slammed my fist down on the bar making thethick glasses jump in surprise.  John.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054277/ I locked my foot intothe small gap between the tree and its branch; I pushed myself higher andhigher until I reached the leafy canopy. I glanced down and Peter was slowly climbing up, trying to mirror mymoves but he was sweating with fear.  Hecame from the town and didn’t e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054275/ Hannah sucked on her false teethagain.  As she wondered why the woman infront of her in the queue was being so rude to the young lad serving; shespotted a small, lilac pot that would be just perfect for her primrose.  She had chosen a blue primrose for William asthese were his favo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054273/ Moss clung tightly tothe cracks in the sandstone wall; I wondered how long it had been there and howmany people had stared at it, ignored it or even walked on it.  I had done all of the above; all my life Ihad lived in this lovely cottage.  Lookscan be deceiving though, from the ou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054272/ Iwatched her while she sleptherbrown paws twitching fastshemust be running somewhere.Herlilac point earslikeradars, searching.Sapphiressuddenly open,agrumpy look tofollow.Whiteneedle teethencasedin a yawn.Alazy stretch,onefoot behin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054270/ Whenthe leaves turned,orangeredgoldyellow.We’dpull the black tarpaulinfromthe little old Fergy.Thestone for sharpening,theoil for turning,leftscraperightsmooth.Shesat in the field ,withmud and sawdust.Granwould be pl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054269/ Yourkind eyes that crinkled,withlaughterYourvoice like a happy robin,smalland loud.Iremember on the forest,withyou and Gran.Thenightingales song andyour claps, toimitate, theirbeating wings.Thecuckoo in the freezerforthe children to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054268/ Ihaven’t seen your coloursYouask me,“yellow,pink or white?”Idon’t even knowwhatroses look like.Howcan I tell youIfI want“yellow,pink or white?”Motherloves her rosessheloved them for their scent.Shenever.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054267/ Apuddle mistaken for a pond,orangefeet splashing, black beads watching.Amberset among branches, dark fingers slack.Thenew fields trembled in the ashen haze, undera hemorrhaging spotlight.Asevered vein bleeding orange, red and yellow,loosening.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054264/ Crinkledskin made dents in my palm asI clambered higher.Thegolden beech jeered Ilost my grip,atwig snapped beneath my red welly,woodburnt my leathery hands.Thescratchy bracken cradled me as I landed,thecold mud crept under my nails.Istumbled to the o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054263/ Facetwisted in tight knots,acidfizzing like Pop Rocks in his throat. Hespat,bloodand green hammered the cold grey slabs. Blackflints sparkled,handslike windmills, a chaos of limbs. Aticking pulse,ironswilled like Listerine.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054260/ Browneyes,soloud over the wind.Hemoved in silence. Poplarswaved, singingin harmony.Istrained to hear. Hepaused,blackberrybruised wood.Agame. Nosewing trail of poppy dots onmilk skin.Adance with brambles. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054258/ The soft white shells lay onthe heap,‘it’s from the grass snake’Granny said.She went in to make toad inthe hole. A steaming piece of muckcrashed into me.Benn’s blue hat disappearingbehind the stinging nettles. A corrugated pig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054256/ You were caught ploddingalong the railway field.We were hidden in thehawthorn bushwaiting for you to arrive. I had squealed withexcitement only to receive a punch fromBenn.‘Be quiet’ he hissed. Another time we sat in theoak tree above t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054255/ Burnt flesh hung in mymouth,tears streaming not clearfrom the smokeor from the sight ofhundreds piled high.Not just livestock. I could hear the shotsringing outOne after another.We dragged the carcasses tothe fireOne after the other. Blood,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054252/ Broken shells crunched undermy callous feetskin worn, an old tyre. The sand swelled, greedy foreach stepswallowing, a reptile. The sea drowned the footholesthe foaming scum welded. Cuttlefish bones scatteredno headstones. Mono.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054251/ Marguerite Daisesheld tight,amongst the ivy andcreepers.Wet, wood stung ournoses.Cindered dolls, eyesblackened,broken faces agedwith soot.Our patchwork quilt,chewed at the edge.The front of our shiphad holes now,a blanket sail swungfeebly.Still standin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054249/ Heavy earth on my shoulders,like the tide. A soft cave was my home,like Play Dough. My hands were broad andcurved,like a shovel. I created a network oftunnels,like veins. An upturned bottle againstmy head,I was the villain.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054247/ Crammed in.Sardines.Certainty of death.Safest way to travel.Wings that don’t flap,Wings too small.Grapes in a barrel.Matchbox windows.Stale air. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054245/  The Six ShooterSunlight poured into thecave,teasing the stream thatstumbledover rocks. Curved trees scowled,their skin like a map,the ivy like roads. Six old drains lined thewall,The water suffocating everymoss crater,every inch of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054243/ Snow tiger under the gunera,his  favourite placeat the bottom of the garden.Green eyes wide and still, his body pressed flatto the thick grass. Mum’s favourite bird,Flitting around the weeping willow.A long tail to be proud of,bobbing his dark.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054164/ The dark wooden door is swollen fattened on rain.I throw myself against itswearing as the wreath nail punctures my skina squeal and groan consoles me.I am in, a wave greets me.David’s wellies, caked in pig muckroast dinner, beef with Yorkshiresa hint of Anais An.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054163/ I pushed my way through the thicket of people at the bar andstumbled over a hidden step.  Cursing itsilently or so I thought, I held onto a pillar for support as I felt a wave ofsickness pool in my stomach.  Someonebrushed past me, bringing me back to reality. I followed the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054161/ The yellow car crawled along in front of them.  It was acceptable to go at this speed whenthe tractor had been going ten miles an hour but it had turned off a whileback.  Jess watched the tarmac forpotholes; she didn’t want to pay for another new tyre.  She wished the coun.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/aimz99/1054160/ CombineRust burnt with a sicklygreen tinge,ivy and sticky weed ate thebroken engine.Benn sat behind the oldwheel,black marks on his face.I wasn’t allowed to sitthere,a splintered plank of woodwas mine,cold nails hung from it likebats.We sat under the.. 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