C S Hughes

Joined May 2021

0 stories

Bio

C S Hughes grew up on the edges of sea glass cities and dust red towns. He has been published online and on paper. His work tends to the lurid, and sometimes to the ludicrous, but seeks beauty in all its ecstasy and artifice.

Stories (44/0)

Revelation For The Lantern Apocalypse
When the sun comes down We will seek solace In derelict restaurant bathrooms When the sun comes down Thrown coins will erupt in poison blooms
By C S Hughesabout a year ago in Poets
One Night In Babylon
The hairdressers with sanguine grace And half-burnt cigarettes Depending from their painted lips Ash eternal in its about-to fall
By C S Hughesabout a year ago in Poets
Tierra del Fuego
You drag at my shirt until my shoulder becomes a mountain A panicked, straightjacket impasse as if that rising, tectonic weight
By C S Hughesabout a year ago in Poets
To The Poet, From His Faithless Muse
I will leave you one day Bereft and bemused The way that hungry winter Leaves foundling spring Not for want of love Of droplets racing on a pane
By C S Hughesabout a year ago in Poets
George Orwell’s Christmas Pudding
When Voltaire made his often-quoted statement that the country of Britain has “a hundred religions and only one sauce”, he was saying something which was untrue and which is equally untrue today, but which might still be echoed in good faith by a foreign visitor who made only a brief stay and drew his impressions from hotels and restaurants.
By C S Hughesabout a year ago in Feast
Me & Mrs Cardrew Share Another Bright Erosion
I will, perversely, begin here at the end With a hole for a smile provoked in my arm Pale, twining fingers for a face To shield the eyes
By C S Hughesabout a year ago in Poets
ATSF 666
“She had a kind of grace, even as a small child, and also a kind of anguish. She brought herself here and threw herself down. In her letter she said there was a beauty here, and an incongruity. I see that.”
By C S Hughesabout a year ago in Fiction
Mr Kennedy Raped The Moon
Picture, if you will, the moment of conception. Now imagine we have taken a scene from PBS Nova’s 1983 documentary, The
By C S Hughesabout a year ago in Poets
Here On Midsummer’s River, We So Elegantly Fall
At your party I will stand Compliant as a hat rack Carefully holding parasols and scarves (An iron kind of evening — neither cool nor bright)
By C S Hughes2 years ago in Poets
We See An Angel
She says do not let go my hand In the panpipe voice She stole from birds As if they were her sisters I think, I think I’m flying
By C S Hughes2 years ago in Poets
One Evening Overwhelmed By Hummingbird Wings
i was not quite half way there when i died under yellow trees with that glaucous scent that always made me think of hummingbirds
By C S Hughes2 years ago in Poets
Phantom
He was a skinny, handsome Indian man with a goofy smile and kind eyes. "Now this shouldn't be an issue," he said. "I've helped people with all sorts of problems –smoking, weight loss, anxiety, depression, fear."
By C S Hughes2 years ago in Horror

C S Hughes

Bio

Stories .css-19zxm0z-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(44/0)

Revelation For The Lantern Apocalypse

One Night In Babylon

Tierra del Fuego

To The Poet, From His Faithless Muse

George Orwell’s Christmas Pudding

Me & Mrs Cardrew Share Another Bright Erosion

ATSF 666

Mr Kennedy Raped The Moon

Here On Midsummer’s River, We So Elegantly Fall

We See An Angel

One Evening Overwhelmed By Hummingbird Wings

Phantom

Stories (44/0)