http://slow.writerscafe.org/Shellwen The original writings of author Jason Grey en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776178080 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Imagine if writing were as easy as following the steps in a cook book. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/741775/ A star cast to earth, forsaken and lonely, asks the moon for guidance. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/426565/ ... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/420181/ At the end, it's only you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/403705/ Speaking to Laura from Christina Rosetti's Goblin Market http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/398373/ WarFamineDiseaseThe world is terribleIt's how we found itBut it's all we've got.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/390645/ Anchors Lifted, lines cast, and a name christened, the SS. Flotsam has begun her maiden voyage. Ocean waves splash against virgin timber and newly twined rope coils under gnarled hands. Old living in the new, both awaiting the unknown as they drift together into the horizon.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383902/ Billowing white canvases unfurl. Trapping clouds as they travel across the sky. Catching a wind, only the iron anchor holds the ship at bay.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383901/  “Captain on board!” the first mate announced, his voice booming across the deck, “Fall in!”  “Thank you,” the captain replied, “but that won’t be necessary. I know these men, but I must meet this ship.” He had walked this .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383900/ Mammoth was the only way you could describe her. A ship of unprecedented size with six tree trunk masts brushing the clouds and prodding the sun. Even the gentlest rocking of her hull sends ripples amongst her fellow boats, seizing and lifting them above the waterline. Designed by young men, many wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383899/ Even the water is crowded, starboards bumping ports to bump another. On the water no divisions exist, small fishing boats rise and fall next to aristocratic sailboats. Each of them, bare of their sails, building a watery forest. Swaying in a westerly wind each of them strain to see the newest of the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383897/  I can still taste the salt water washing over our deck in a storm. I still feel the worn grain under me, smooth from years of mopping, pacing and fighting. I remember him before he was captain, when he slept in a hammock under the deck, silent as the dead. I still hear he bones I broke of a ma.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383895/ Bustling tides of grey like hurtling schools of fish swim along an unseen current. Flotsam of crates, food and goods drift among drenched bodies. Muscular arms swing over the water, tossing sacks of grain to voyaging ships. Each face is chiseled and unshaven. Many of them try to hide scars, and more.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383891/ She was gaunt and worry sat upon her face, pulling dark bags from under her grey eyes. Swathed in maroon, she is out of place Her once flowing red hair hides beneath a modest hat. Quick paced steps clack across the boards, crimson shoes slicing through the oceans of her dress. Trying to catch her h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383888/  Perched on a wooden stool with his hand-stitched boots planted firmly in the ground, an old sailor waits. A soot filled pipe protruding from a bushy white beard smolders quietly. He has become too old to sail, marooned so close to the water he loves. Sea-salt etched hands, calloused from years.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383886/  A large suntanned man, wading through an undercurrent of grey dockworkers makes his way to the edge of the dock. His silver spyglass sashed across his bare chest bounces wildly as hunched workers collide against his massive arms. His shoes, once thick leather, are now thin enough for him to fe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/383883/ Hello. I am God. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/377067/ A day it rains, and I have saved nothing for it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/376206/ Rebuilding a thought http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/371692/ The morbid fairy tale from the point of view of the wife http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/370808/ Insanity can start with the smallest things http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/370730/ Traveled to Paris and found that the city likes to sleep in http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/369778/ What has he become? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/369109/ Young Iraq veteran coping with the aftereffects. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/368728/ When did we forget the rain? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/368567/ Ten words or less http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/368423/ My Profession http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/368054/ Cool, dew-laden fingersStretch and uncurl.Brushing lingering starsGentle breezesStir swaying hair intoA fretful balletQuiet sunbeamsFall upon elegant eyes,The first to see light.Within dark curlsStriking flowers rest,Waiting to unfurl.She isA morning silhouette,A .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/368051/ Who would have known? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/367684/ A Kamikaze pilot having second thoughts. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/367610/ When you constantly question why you continue, but it never occurs to you to stop. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/367565/                          The sun peeksThrough my window,Again.I loathe it so. For it shinesInto my heart and soulI am transparentBefore itsP.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/367563/ What we must overcome. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/367562/ If you row, you understand. If you don't, I'm sorry. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/367436/ I spoke to a rose who found it interesting to bloom in snow. This is it's story. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Shellwen/367435/