Stephen Barrett
Bio
Inspired by stories that cut across human nature, often with a drop or two of the bizare and strange. Sometimes with a heavy dose of philosophy lurking in the background.
Stories (4/0)
Tomato Plant
The tomato plant had grown rapidly. Not only had it grown at an alarming rate, but the size was surpassing what could only be imagined as the latest of plants. Not only was the size huge, but the greens of the leaves was a more succulent and enticing green than had enticed the eyes before. There was one area, though, in which this Herculean of plants failed to match the expectations raised in its growth and colour; it had no fruit. Surely it’s early advances would have proffered even glimpses of succulent buds of its red juicy fruit. Yet, no they had not arrived: no sign nor indication anywhere.
By Stephen Barrettabout a month ago in Fiction
Getaway
The Audi sat silent, sat still. Her bum shuffled in the seat, the drivers’ seat, as she hitched her skirt back to give her legs more manoeuvre and power on the pedals. It wasn’t a long skirt, she regretted wearing it; but it was the flash of stocking clad thighs that had distracted him, so the regret was muted. Plus she was nervous, and the skirt adjusting shuffle was probably more a nervous fidget than anything else.
By Stephen Barrett8 months ago in Fiction
The return of the dragons
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. They are difficult to hide and hard to ignore; fully grown they are huge, they fly and breathe fire - and they would be posted all over Tik Tok and Instagram. What is always in the Valley, though, is the remains. Memories may not span the time so voices can give witness to the incredible, but the evidence is there. Hidden in layers between the dinosaur fossils and industrialisation, if you look you can see it. Amongst all the data, is the proof - but turning one into the other is the tricky part, and so is having others see it. But that’s what I did, that's what I tried. That was my sin.
By Stephen Barrett2 years ago in Fiction
A Seafront Encounter
She gave me a word. Perhaps it was all she could give, I kind of think it was. Spoken in a whispered voice it was delivered millimetres from my ear: the action brought her body close upon mine. There was the impending contact of her hips and thighs, the gentle crush of her breast upon mine as her mouth glided towards my ear. Her cheek brushed against mine on that last leg of the journey to deliver a word, her mouth pursed to say something and drew up across my cheek. From her body something radiated that made me tingle - I half expected a kiss. My arms hung limply by my side, hands didn't know what to do. Was this an embrace, where I should hold her, should I try to keep her here with me? As it was, I did nothing, I said nothing. She was in control, or so it seemed, and I was rendered inert: just an observer. The word was not a spell, it was the moment that held the enchantment: a moment that had been building since I met here.
By Stephen Barrett2 years ago in Fiction