http://slow.writerscafe.org/Wesley_Harney The original writings of author Wesley V Harney en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776026852 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 It was love at first sight, at least for him. He never really knew in the end if she loved him first or if she just got used to him. But either way it didn’t matter because it was ok , because life stopped when he was in her presence and he tried to let her know the only way he knew ho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/533823/ There is a sinister joy in the raining cafe visit, when the crowd has begun to wane and only the few and the proud stay to brave the progressing rain. I’ve found that nothing so satisfying as the mid-day coffee and peace to write. Its only here that the words seem to fly, I haven&rsquo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/533818/ A short piece I wrote a long time ago, at the time I felt very alone and this it what came out of that feeling. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/533817/ Fishing For Worms-Chapter 3 The sun was waking up when we came out of the woods. The dull oranges and reds slowly molded into bright purples and yellows, nudging the earlier risers from their beds. Louis wanted to stop and watch the colors dance across the sky but the marine had got.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/533549/ Fishing For Worms -Chapter 2 Leaning in over the body I looked for signs of life. A twitch, a sigh, a little breath. The body was face down in the mud and I couldn’t see clearly enough to descern who it could possibly be. I began to pat down the body, checking for wounds or ma.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/532649/ Fishing For Worms-Chapter 1 “But this is the last time!” “Agreed, now off with you.” “Yes sir.” And just like that I trudged of into the night, leaving behind my perfectly cozy home with its fireplace and warm meal. Into the night, ironic I said t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/532647/ A novel I am working on for young adult literature. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/532646/ It’s a touch of the infinite when the eyes of a childfall softly upon your own, lifting ears to the sounds,those we have forgotten to listen for.The wind dancing to the beat of their hearts,tossing hair, floating hats and leaves and shoving birdsout of the way in a playful jest... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/532645/ Bathroom stall poetryscrawled across tilein sharpie feedingwords to unsuspectingtools of the great “man”finding fools crisscrossingideals in dark alleysand beating heads againstthe jello wallsof reality,infinite causesbrought down to one word,acceptance. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/532643/ Fredrickson stumbled through the gate to the farm, slipping on mud and who knows what? Leaving small trails of spittle on the path as he headed for the barn. Boy, I should not have drank that much vodka tonight. was it all vodka? I don't remember. Whatever I drank, too much, way too much, I should d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Wesley_Harney/532400/