http://slow.writerscafe.org/lakinbob The original writings of author lakinbob en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775973762 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Her finger is curled as if she is beckoning me. Gold ring and red polished nail, the flesh blackened and bloodied, but it's just an arm. Where is the rest of her?    F**k knows!Looking across the open sights of my rifle, between the smoke, amongst the glass and debris I see more body .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2172779/ 07:55 a.m. deep in Oxfordshire; in-country, as it were.They start early here, the twitchers and the ramblers,be-gaitered, be-sticked, armed with binocularsand dangling cameras with large hooded lenses.Small groups, deep in hushed conversation, innocents abroad, as ineluctible as the pillows of morni.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2168808/ Just a bit of a rant http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2165071/ Life can be s**t. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2163637/ Croatia, December, 1991.Twelve hours non-stop across forgotten frontiers,that echo with the hollow cries of people trapped inside a world of broken dreams.This culture shocks, like ice drenched mountain water,that closes eyes with frozen words,on trembling lips too scared to speak.A people preo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2162025/ White man in Hammersmith is reduced to canned muzak these days,absent-mindedly hummed toin aisle three,whilst checking outthe buy one get one free.Looking through shuttered eyeshe hovers round and overcheap junk-food pies,whilst stressed motherswho were one-time flirty little punks,agonize over.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2161979/ Man...parks car,stops engine,goes to ATM,pats pocket,left card at home.starts car, runs out of petrol,pats pocket,mobile phone at home with card.F**k it!Woman...parks car,checks makeup,stops engine,checks makeup again,goes to ATM,answers phone to friend whilesearching bag for diary with pin,ins.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2151303/ Numbed after the funeralshe went back home alone.To search the clutter of a man now deadand clean out the trash in his garden shed.Jamjars, cigar boxes and tobacco tins,nails and screws and drawing pins.Fuses, toggles and reels of sticky tape,hooks, and springs and fishing weights.Half-used candles .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2063377/ She selected her coat with care,blue it was, her favourite colour,just like the sky.She wore the butterfly brooch,the one from the charity shop,gaudy enamel it was,cheap, but cheerful,had it pinned,carefully,on the lapel it was,of her sky blue coat.The coat was charity too,reminded her of her grandf.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2055876/ Six months for defendingmyself;  or put another way;beating the s**t out of a couple of bouncers.They started it your honour,I told the judge, I just finished it.Fat arse-f*****g Greek b*****d!my parting words as I was led away,after all, I was mildly angry in Athenson that particular day... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/lakinbob/2055478/