Raymond G. Taylor
Bio
Author based in Kent, England. A writer of fictional short stories in a wide range of genres, he has been a non-fiction writer since the 1980s. Non-fiction subjects include art, history, technology, business, law, and the human condition.
Achievements (2)
Stories (253/0)
- Top Story - October 2023
Still looking for ideas for your 'under a spell' entry?Top Story - October 2023
Bless you! What's that if not a magic spell? Well I guess it could be a prayer but then again... what's the difference? "Happy birthday to you" is a line from a song. But if you sing it and then ask the birthday girl or boy to blow out candles on a cake, then surely that's a spell too? I once heard a talk about magic that made just this point.
By Raymond G. Taylor6 months ago in Writers
Run with the Pack: Chapter 10
From small, sightless, black-coated, fluffy squiggles of crawling furball, the pups grew into mischievous, playful, squeaking, mini-wolves, looking for adventure and desperate to explore the whole new world outside their dimly lit den. From milk sopping babes that never ventured far from their mother, they started to wean to diets that were part-milk, part regurgitated food.
By Raymond G. Taylor6 months ago in Chapters
How to get into Vogue
I don’t often read Vogue but when I do I always learn something. Faced with a three hour flight from London Gatwick I bought a discounted £2 copy from WHSmith, and glad I did. The cover, featuring Leonardo di Caprio and Lily Gladstone, was a beautiful example of how glamorous Hollywood actors can be made to look even more glamorous.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Writers
Run with the Pack: Chapter 9
In the nights and days that came to pass, the growing thaw brought more and more life to the forest. The two wolves sought food with a growing appetite and an ever-pressing hunger. Acting together, but without any conscious planning, Bahr and Elha were able to feed that hunger by acting in concert, whether to hunt live food or to sniff down carrion.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Chapters
- Runner-Up in Nourished Challenge
Nuts to vegetariansRunner-Up in Nourished Challenge
When it comes to eating meat, I stopped 40 years ago in 1983. I recall the last meaty meal I ate, mostly because it was a mistake, an oversight. Invited to dinner with some work friends I had neglected to tell them that I was a vegetarian. Completely forgot to say, that is, until a big bowl of steaming spag bol was placed in front of me. Appealing as it was, it seemed, to all the other guests, I had to steel myself to tackle it.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Feast
Run with the Pack: Chapter 8
As Bahr approached Elha, she turned and both wolves stopped, looking at each other from a few paces away. Bahr was still panting from his ordeal and the exertion of fighting off the stranger wolf. There was a deep gash to his shoulder and another wound to his flank. This time, when Bahr approached Elha closer, she did not growl or show her fangs. She licked his muzzle, and he returned the gesture. They were now reconciled to each other, it seemed.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Chapters
Art for our sake: seven
This stunning work by Ukranian artist Maria Prymachenko (1908-1997) is one of many that are endangered as a consequence of the Russian invasion of the Ukraine and continued attacks on that beleaguered country. the Ivankiv museum that housed many of Prymachenko's works was destroyed by fire following a (claimed) Russian attack As ArchiReader explains, this was not just an attack against the museum but an attack on Ukrainian culture and the Ukrainian people.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Art
Ecstasy await
A look, a pearl of saline moisture barely visible. His lips move, not quite a whisper. Her hand lifts, the forefinger extending, rising as if by charm or sorcery, levitation, toward her own lips. The tip barely touching the slight, unseen, down, whispering above the pinkish-red cupid's bow covering a hidden ivory parade within.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Fiction
The witches’ granddaughters
Shepherd's crook and monkish cassock, Crucifix and jewelled haddock. The words were chanted over a pitch pot aflame in wreathes of slick and slimy smoke, on a solid island within the rank marshlands beyond the western wall of the city.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Fiction