http://slow.writerscafe.org/patricks_attic The original writings of author Patrick Davies en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776064840 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Optimistic and probably naive vision of what I'm anticipating. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/535780/ a. 03:00&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; James heard the commotion from the ball-room, where he had remained, in a heap, since the awful news was announced. A group of kind Bohemians had lifted him from the floor and transported him to the chairs around the edge. He had sat, paralyzed, for a while, collecting w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/480827/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The Detective checked the time. 02:00 exactly as his tires made a crunching noise on the gravel. He was accompanied by the young sergeant who he had first met in the Theatre. The officer, whose name Gast knew to be Allan, had then ventured to the bare railway station with him. For.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/478221/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The clouds had cleared for the minute and there were no streetlamps. All around was dark, yet still visible under the star-light. The little gems, thrust across their blackened sheet competed for attention of Earthlings.&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;On the grass, lay Alex, beside a woman w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/469455/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The Traveller fled. He knew now. Jack had used him. Jack had set him up. Jack lured him into a trap.&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;No more calls of Jack&rsquo;s would he answer tonight.&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Back along the corridor he scampered. Behind him he could hear cries of &ldquo;Stop!&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/465992/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The Theatre was evil looking. It grinned with satisfaction at Detective Gast. Another night, another horror, another sight that would haunt The Detective till the day he died. He looked at the sky, as if taking a breath, before he plunged into the murk of the dark building.&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/465368/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Two hours had passed since Alex had seen what he had seen. He had found his way back to the campsite, but a burning like the wood of the fire had been there in him since the star-crossed lovers had staged their pornographic production to The Man In The Moon. He had lain in his sle.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/462029/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; He wore the scrubs. He had the same strong walk. She saw his face. It was him. Bonnie jerked out of her relaxed position, still clutching the smouldering relaxation tool.&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&lsquo;Doctor! Doctor!&rsquo; She felt ridiculous. She shook herself up as she jogged afte.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/451788/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Jack was on his way. He had left the Theatre just the way he had found it. The cats could carry on just as they had always done.&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;He hoped that A&amp;E would be relatively quiet tonight, but he knew that, it being Halloween, people were much more likely to get h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/450994/ a. 19:00&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; '...And the Prince married the Princess and every one lived happily ever after.'&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'Again! Please! Again! I'll go right to sleep.'&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'Yeah. Again!'&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'No. I'm not telling you that story for a third time. You'll know e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/441716/ It's all around. I've locked my door, but it doesn't help. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/441541/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 'She's coming!'&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'He's coming out now!'&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'This better be good.'&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'I've seen every one of them. Each one more stunning than the last!'&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'Can you see her?'&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;'I have to go! I'm bursting.'.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/441195/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Over at the kooky side of town, the clock hit five and spilled workers, like fish guts, onto the roads. There was a flurry of cars and buses and taxis and bicycles. All of which were acidic or black in colour. Blues and greens. Jack could not find peace anywhere. He thought of his.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/439545/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The clattering doors of the train birthed him. His shining black shoe made contact with the platform. He moved slower than the gaggle of commuters around him, whose views were distorted by the puff of swirling steam from the engines. The stink of diesel and hissing came from under.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/437236/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; A small road leading up to it, the cemetery lay dormant on higher ground - ground composed of decomposing flesh. Very little living flesh ever visited their beloved corpses any more. The thick rural air and dominating trees had become a suffocating curtain around the site, leaving.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/437018/ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Detective Gast woke from a sweet dream. His clock read 12:00, October 31, but his face and the sagging features that it clang to suggested some time in the early hours. Despite a glance in the ever truthful mirror, the Detective knew that it was the clock that was honest and not h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/436665/ A journey. An exploration of Sunset to Sunrise. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/436661/ For "A Voice For Neda" writing contest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/424734/ For "The Girl" writing contest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/424413/ Awareness. One of the most dangerous bombs on the planet. Are we all blind and wired into the bomb - impeded by it? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/424210/ Fall down, Fall down. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/424202/ A poem for the few. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/423872/ A journey in the tube... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/423870/ Ever felt physically moved by the objects around you, the events you witness, and the crusty wet layers of the Earth? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/396194/ Hell is made of this. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/390571/ An old photo. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/390565/ Breaking open the shell. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/377596/ <- http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/309507/ An imprint. Left by a girl who didn't get a chance to say goodbye to the one she loves... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/301447/ A nervous request. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/296108/ Oh! The ecstasy of feeling the two halves of your body separate before a piano. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/283604/ The apartment building. Am I alone? Has every one died in their cells? Did no one else hear that noise from below!? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/281109/ I can see who you are - don't try to hide. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/280896/ I found this on her dressing table... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/280660/ Careful not to fall in. The rivers are strong and the current is fast. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/280645/ Because few people are awake at this time, (and if they are, they are probably not sober, or are in their homes) do we really know what happens at twelve o'clock midnight? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/280632/ Did our abuse, harm and neglect for these lands begin with such a passion and love? Have we all gone mad in our rape of the planet? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/280599/ In the old empty theater, in the middle of the night, a corpse has been found... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/patricks_attic/280211/