Friday, 31 August 2012

Winter is forever

Hi everyone, and thank you for reading. Although I have several short stories in the queue for posting, I thought that this week I would have a change and do something completely different.

Instead of a flash fiction story, I decided to post the lyrics of a song that I wrote way back in 1985.

The song is sung in a similar, but very slightly faster and more upbeat lilt than Bob Dylan's “Tomorrow is a long time.”


When I could no longer see that rainbow,
And clouds hid the beauty of the skies,
Your song could make my shadow touch the ground,
And the words bring the colours to my eyes.

And when silence broke those walls I'd laid around me,
And all I'd left was feeling disinclined,
The echo of your voice was there to guide me,
And I couldn't help but read between the lines.

* * * * * * * * * *

But I don't mind if winter is forever,
And I don't mind the cold morning rain,
I don't think at all about tomorrow,
When I hold you to my breast once again.

* * * * * * * * * *

I've heard the sound of full-grown men crying,
And I've heard the sound of rivers running dry,
I've heard the sound of castle walls falling,
And I've heard so many different reasons why.

I've seen mountains turn to sand while I was climbing,
And I've seen the truth, of living in a lie,
And yet all those spectral memories still haunt me,
Like the broken wings I tries so hard to fly.

* * * * * * * * * *

I held you in the night while you were sleeping,
And stayed awake to catch you should you fall,
I carried you through darkness 'til the daybreak,
And you didn't seem to weigh anything at all.

We walked those golden fields and silver beaches,
Sailed our magic carpet across the sky,
Though I never really thought it was forever,
I don't think it was a waste of time to try.

©1985 Stephen. J. Green.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Friday, 24 August 2012


She spoke to me in blues and greys, in dull shades her voice droned on and on.

She could tell I was becoming bored, restless and beige.

Her voice lightened a shade, brightened a shade, the occasional flicker of yellow lifted the mood, piqued my interest.

Richer hues tinged her words, bright greens swirled to the surface mingling with vibrant oranges and dazzling pinks.

As she leant into me her face transformed into an iridescent kaleidoscopic beauty.

We kissed deeply, turquoisely, tongues an intertwining, shifting, glittering rainbow.

We made love in shattering purples and blinding reds.

Eventually, sated, we fell asleep, soothing pastel shades crowded our dreams, eased our hearts.

©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Friday, 3 August 2012


Hi everyone, and thanks for dropping by. I'm going on holiday next weekend, so I won't be posting a #fridayflash for the next couple of weeks.

Have fun...

Although I won't be posting a story for the next two Fridays, and I won't be taking my computer with me, I'll try to find time to read #fridayflashes next Friday before we set off, and on the following weekend when we get back.

* * * * * * * * * *


I picked up the phone on the second ring, glad of the distraction, something to take my eye and mind away from all the black clothing, the chatter, and the buffet appreciation.

It was an old friend, Simon, his voice was a welcome oasis amidst this desert of emotional pretence.

Simon apologised for his absence, family commitments plus the sheer distance involved made it impossible for him to get here. He offered his condolences and asked how I was coping with the day. Just knowing that he cared helped, it helped a lot.

We chatted for a few minutes, then left each other with a promise to get together some time in the near future.

I hung up the phone and glanced around the room at all the people, the little huddles playing catch-up. The sound of occasional laughter further deepened the pain in my heart.

Janine had never been one of the popular relatives, she was thought of as loud and brash, they hadn't known her as I had, she used volume to conceal lack of self confidence, to paper over the emotional scars of childhood abuse and the stripped away self esteem it brought with it.

No amount of talking or counselling could ever make her see her own beauty, and she was beautiful, inside and outside, and yet she took her own life.

A hole had been ripped into my life that none of these present would ever believe she was capable of leaving.

Soon all of these people would be gone, away to resume their own lives, and I would be left alone with my memories.

Maybe, given time, the hole would become smaller... Maybe.

©2012 Stephen. J. Green.