B. Morris Allen

B. Morris Allen

Stories of love and disaster
Beginnings 049 – Autumn Mist
The dragon was old. Old and tired, and a little bitter. Oh, it was well enough for a young dragon to talk about ‘later’, when...
Read More "Beginnings 049 – Autumn Mist"
Beginnings 048 – For this Rich Earth
Gather around, children, and I’ll tell you a tale of beginnings, and of ends, and means. This is a story of the early days, when...
Read More "Beginnings 048 – For this Rich Earth"
Beginnings 047 – Start with Stones
Down by the creek, a dark figure moved in the mist. From the door of her drystone cottage, the crofter watched it curiously. A long...
Read More "Beginnings 047 – Start with Stones"
Beginnings 046 – The Stone in the Sword
Deep in the woods, where the trees broke into a clearing, a man and a badger sat having a picnic. The man sat with his...
Read More "Beginnings 046 – The Stone in the Sword"
Beginnings 045 – Crust
The bed was too short. Or, as my brother Archie would have said, I was too long. Archie was always ready with a joke. It...
Read More "Beginnings 045 – Crust"
Beginnings 044 – Dancing Through Winter
We danced in the darkness, my mother and I, stepping lightly from note to note. If we sometimes missed our footing, we caught each other...
Read More "Beginnings 044 – Dancing Through Winter"
Beginnings 043 – House of Hope
As the last merlons fall from my last tall tower, I remember I remember the first cold shock of hammer, the fractured sense of loss...
Read More "Beginnings 043 – House of Hope"
Beginnings 042 – Tocsin
Don’t ask, as the waves crash against you, and froth covers your camera ports. The yellowish spume drips slowly down the glass again, its acid...
Read More "Beginnings 042 – Tocsin"