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Bridget's blog

Short story: <i>The Last Dance</i>



She sits at the little wooden table, knees together, ankles apart, forearms resting lightly on a thousand scratchy splinters.

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Short story: <i>Den Of Vice</i>



The night air is soaked warm, like raisins for a pudding, with the smell of sweat and smoke and the low rumble of voices.

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Short story: <i>Love Letter</i>



My love,

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Short story: <i>Love At First Sight</i>



She looked at me and said

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Short story: <i>Ode To Spring</i>



In green grass, silkily damp with dew and bowed down with humility, Rose rambles, gnarly with thorns, tinged with imperfections.

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Short story: <i>Hostel</i>



Blonde hair, brown skin, green eyes, blue eyes, long limbs, dreadlocks, justifications, recriminations, a dozen languages, a dozen cigarettes, first world guilt, humble actions, superior thoughts.

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Short story <i>Mission</i>



I creep around the strange room, slowly, painstakingly, like a murderer.

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Short story: <i>Mad Meg</i>



Mad Meg’s what they call her, and I can see why.

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Leah, Las Isletas, Mombacho, the Laguna De Apoyo, and an unfortunate toilet incident...


Photo of Leah with a deep fried guapote

Mmmm. Big fried fish at the isletas.

What adventures we have had, on our psuedo holiday inside a holiday with Leah!

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Short story: <i>All Strung Out</i>



Strung out in the hammock

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Short story: <i>The Master</i>



It takes a lot of self-discipline to do what I do.

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Short story: <i>Siren Song</i>



A siren wails in the dark, summoning those who are susceptible to her charms.

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Short story:<i> A Love Story</i>


photo of a sundial

He says, do you remember the day we met?

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Short story: <i>Strawberry Lips</i>


soda fountain

She's a soda-fountain girl with plump strawberry lips and cherry cheeks and the kind of smile that makes your stomach go fizz.

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Short story: <i>Quiet Desperation</i>


picture of a man with a briefcase

Maybe I go to work every morning at six.

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Short story: <i>The Booking Agent</i>



The skin on the man’s face looked like a diseased ham, shiny pink with patches of white flaking from his nose, forehead, chin, even eyelids. He was even sweating like a pig.

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Short story: <i>The Night Watch</i>


Picture for The Night Watch

Through the dark streets they carouse and slide and caper and slither and creep, metamorphising in each streetlight, snatches of snickering song bouncing off the pavements and bitumen and concrete and glass.

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The little generator that could and a Nicaraguan karate tournament


Photo of our little generator

Gosh, isn’t THAT an attractive generator?

Well doesn’t time just fly? Just a quick catch up entry to keep you all fully informed about our doings around the exotic location of Nicaragua. What Dave and I are finding bizarre and freakish is that firstly, we have been here for just over eight months, (where does the time go?) and it’s now easier to work out how many weeks we have left here as opposed to my earlier entries which were how many weeks we had been here for.

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Short story: <i>The Spy</i>


Spy

I’m pretty sure I know what I want to be when I grow up.

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