Teresa Renton
Bio
Inhaling life, exhaling stories, poetry, prose, flash or fusions. An imperfect perfectionist who writes and recycles words. I write because I love how it feels to make ink patterns & form words, like pictures, on a page.
Stories (72/0)
- Runner-Up in After the Parade Challenge
Cardboard ManRunner-Up in After the Parade Challenge
I saw him only last week, through triangles of bunting, triangles like the patterned patches Mum sewed on my jeans to cover-up rips. He looked straight at me; his gaze pierced balloon-bouquets and wanton streamers to reach me—I see you looking—and he stripped me naked—of my Pride, of my uniform. I saw him that day, on the ground, when the party bokeh-blurred, when clouds, curious, watched their rainbows extend down to join the heady revelry. Hope painted the canvas of celebration, a kaleidoscope of jubilation. Colours flashed in abundance, dizzying with their final release at this long-awaited party. Sequinned harlequins waved painted nails above couples making out, above gyrating hips of dancers lost in music. I asked him then, ‘are you here for the parade?’ He answered, ‘parade?’ I pass his way every day now, but I don’t know why exactly.
By Teresa Renton2 years ago in Poets
- Runner-Up in From Across the Room Challenge
If I Could Hold Anything in my Hand, it Would be a Real Faerie
These magical creatures have been my passport to another world–an enchanted land that watched me and waited. This promise lingered in my dreams, forever tattooed on the skin of my life. Meanwhile, the faerie folk mopped my tears.
By Teresa Renton3 years ago in Fiction
- Second Place in SFS 3: Brown Paper Box Challenge
The PromiseSecond Place in SFS 3: Brown Paper Box Challenge
“Think about it,” Alex said one day. “They have offered me the big promotion. And you can work from anywhere. You’re portable.” He stretched his arms in front of her, palms open, shoulders hunched, defeat already tensing his features.
By Teresa Renton3 years ago in Fiction
Murder on the Train
Shortlisted in the Vocal+ fiction awards * * * * * She sat opposite me without a word, her head turned towards the window, her eyes unblinking. Her stony expression almost veiled her fear. I joined her in gazing at the passing landscape, each of us gaining and offering comfort from this shared activity. The rhythmic whoosh of the train continued, oblivious to everything but its mission of heading forward.
By Teresa Renton3 years ago in Fiction