http://slow.writerscafe.org/McHuckabeagel The original writings of author G. Coleman en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776003452 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 “Oh, he’s surely deadHyde…” “Yeah, I know he’s dead…why would I call you- if I had any shred of an idea otherwise.” Hyde snapped,as he lit a match and brought it to the cheap cigarette between his lips. “What do you want to dowi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1640859/ No art I’vefound more beautiful,Moreelegant,Or ominous,Than thatwhich I witnessed,Being carvedinto that bone.Flakes weresanded,Scratched,And brushedaway from the “canvas”,Revealingtranquil spirits underneath.Theapparitions were enveloped in plumes of their own calm .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1574513/ A few years ago I overheard mydaughter’s friend, Florence; tell a story that immediately puzzled me. Sherecalled a personal experience which she claimed had happened a few hoursbefore at the old abandoned high school which sat on the mesa overlooking oursmall town. She didn’t rea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1573238/ A short play I did for a school assignment. My first attempt at something like this, and I'm happier with it than I thought I would going into it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1547228/ Kill whatever’s making that noise,Bash it in the head,It coos,It squawks,It roars,Out there,Find it and make it dead.There are missionaries less annoying,And less persistent too.If you kill that noise for me,I know what I would do,I’d give you .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1531676/ Perhaps I get to angry,When I disagree,With another person,Sitting right across from me.But I hold my tongue,Until I get my chance,Then I beat them with my words,Instead of with my hands.The dumb  may continueto ramble,No matter how blunt you are,No matter what fac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1531668/ There was a man, He is gone now. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1499794/ Among the abandoned hallways now,He still marches, looking for me.I've been hiding among the dust,Beneath crumbling desks, and encroaching rust.He generally stays in the halls,Marching heavily, on the other side of the wall.But when he thinks he’s found me,He wails and screams, as he dents the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1479448/ Two tales about the creature which dwells in the desert. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1473567/ There was a legend about the well in the garden,But that tale was lost so long ago.Something about a witch,With an awful twitch,Who drowned in the well long ago.But I don’t know,Why birds go,And drown themselves in the well.I just fish the out,Like I would with a trout,To avoid a foul smell.Th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1472031/ Would you,Still talk to me,If you knew,my secret.Would you,Think ill of me,If I told you,My secret.I find,No one,From here,To the stars above,I fear,Who will not,Turn tail and run,Once I tell them of my fun.Would you,Still talk to me,If you knew,my secret.Would you,Think ill of me,If I told you,My s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1464578/ His bare and crushed feet,Trudge through the snow,Ice scratches lines deep in the bone,Looking for no shelter,Seeking no warmth.This man has no wishes,And has no demand.The cold will get him.No blood in his fingers,Some skin shears off his bone.Yet his breath is hotter than a furnace,And his mind st.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/McHuckabeagel/1459127/