Caroline Jane
Bio
Warm-blooded vertebrate, domesticated with a preference for the wild. Howls at the moon and forages on the dark side of it. Laughs like a hyena. Fuelled by good times and fairy dust. Writes obsessively with no holes barred.
Achievements (15)
Stories (138/0)
Salt
Mother, how do I know if I am free? You will feel the sting of it as it drips into your raw, exposed wounds. Around you, the air will reek with it as cliffs of certainties crumble, releasing it into new, unexplored seas. You will lick your dry, chapped lips and taste its bitterness while wiping streaks of it from your face. Your body will glow, and you will pant as it clings to you, cooling you, grounding you, taking you home to the dirt beneath the golden shores and green grass fields from which it is mined.
By Caroline Jane7 days ago in Poets
Is this the end? Send.... Top Story - July 2024.
Hello. It's me... again. Sorry. Just... well... sorry. It's just... well... silly... I know. We've never even... ... well... even met... yet... this... This. What is this? I... I don't know. I... All I know... Please write.
By Caroline Jane18 days ago in Poets
Pompeii Pea Soup
I have stood inside ancient stone circles in the historic heartlands of British countryside, visited historical sites of some of the oldest civilisations of the western world, climbed up through the clouds in remote places like the Andes to reach the echelons of mystical civility, supped on tea served with arcane ceremony while sat inside some of Japan's oldest pagodas, sat in caves where cannibals once hoarded the bones of their victims, and read many, many stories writ by the hand of those who lived millennia before I, but it is only in Pompeii that I have felt genuinely connected to the lives of the ancients.
By Caroline Jane20 days ago in Feast
The Loudening
"Lorraine, there really is no reason for you to sit here every day." Miranda, Lolly's nurse, has been in the room all of two minutes and already, in that brief time, she has tucked the bed sheets into tight corners, plumped up the feather pillows with the vigour of a person trying to resuscitate the duck whose down filled them, admonished me, and dragged open the window's heavy green brocade curtains as though channelling the spirit of a matador about to grab a bull by its horns. With arms outstretched, the heavy curtains swinging from momentum on either side of her, she breathes in deeply and exhales the words, "Just look at that weather!" Holding her pose like a missionary on the mount, she bathes in the glory of the view that beholds her.
By Caroline Jane2 months ago in Fiction
I guess I could just open a can of Campbell's
There is nothing wrong with opening a can of soup for lunch and tucking in. Out there on the shelves of your friendly local supermarket is an incredible range of soups to be savoured.* Why even go to the effort of making one from scratch? Buy a tin, pop it in a bowl or saucepan, heat, eat, and get on with life. We only live once, after all, and there is much to do!
By Caroline Jane2 months ago in Feast
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