Tag Archives: Gothic

Three Line Tales – Great Expectations

Three Line Tales -Great Expectations.


Photo by Annie Sprat via Unsplash

Just another large gin to steady the nerves, must be presentable; you understand.
I hope they bring a red and some Jack Daniels or better, a Glenmorangie.
Food! Too late they are here. Why the white coats? What have I done?

Three Line Tales – The Ghost of Nature


Photo by Rebecca Johnston

Three Line Tales – Week Thirty Five

The Ghost of Nature

I am the evolution and future of Earth’s existence.
The protector of all species within nature’s kingdom.
But, Man with his weapons predicates only the world’s extinction.

Poetry – The Pantoum

In my quest to learn more about poetry I have attempted the Pantoum. This particular form, apparently, has its origins in Malay. As in many types of poetry there are specific rules or traditions to follow, which make them distinct, and therefore requires a careful attention when constructing the verses.

A traditional Pantoum has the following rules.

There is no specific length to the poem, therefore it can have as many verses as the writer wants.

Each stanza or verse has four lines.

The rhyming scheme is abab, bcbc, cdcd etc.

The second line of each verse becomes the first line of the next verse.

The fourth line of each verse also becomes the third line of the next verse.

The first line of the poem is also the last line.

Usually, although not fixed, the Pantoum has eight syllables in each line.

Because of the repetition of the lines, the poem is full of haunting echoes with the ending returning to the beginning. This form of poetry suits subjects such as obsession, searching and finding or comparing the past with the present.

My attempt is ‘The Wishing Well’.

Charing Cross Glasgow

Charing Cross Glasgow


The Wishing Well.

While walking by to work each day

I pass a dried up wishing well

Where people drop in coins to pray

They make a wish or cast a spell


I pass a dried up wishing well

Where they are building new homes

They made a wish or cast a spell

When they dug out the children’s bones


Where they are building up new homes

There are now pipes of fresh water

Where they dug out the children’s bones

The remains from a Dickensian era


There are now pipes of fresh water

And a dry well built of old stones

The remains from a Dickensian era

The brass plaque telling of the bones


And a dry well built of old stones

Where I stop for a moment to read

The brass plaque telling of the bones

And of a history I should heed


Where I stop for a moment to read

I drop a coin to wish and pray

And of a history I must heed

While walking by to work each day.

Our world – The Physics of Life.

The Physics of life.

I can see I am not the only nerd who is bored, the air is stuffy and people are shielding their iphones under their desks. Their vacant looks are directed at the front in a posture of disinterest, as their fingers collaborate in their cyber conversations. Others are blatantly asleep, and yet this all seems immaterial to the lecturer. “Jason” as we have to address him although he is at least 15 years older than any of us, but he considers “familiarity inspires creativity”. This is one of his big ideas he brought back from America from his time in NASA doing academic research. Put it in your CV, Jason; we get it! Yes, I was impressed at first but repetitive repetition of his self-importance is as interesting as cold tomato soup.

He drones on in a monotonous voice with his explanation of wave-particle duality, and I know he has got it wrong. Why doesn’t he use notes? I am the only one to notice, he is slurring and stuttering his speech and has a hangover. I don’t drink alcohol, but do I find it humorous the way people use this as an excuse; I think they’ve already planned their mischievous notions deep in their subconscious mind and after a few drinks play them out, then feel ill and foolish afterwards. Still it never seems to deter them, and it’s always the same response, it was the drink.

Jason is off at a tangent, me, me, when I was in America, how dull, blah!

I once interrupted him a few weeks ago when he clearly missed the importance of the integral spin of mesons. What a mistake. He didn’t accept my obvious correction but instead rebuked me for the interruption and then made a personal attack on my appearance. He told me I was a Gothic Satanic Vampire with no future in the world of quantum physics. The narrow-minded self-egotistic fn twat, and what an hypocritical view considering his cult following of Scientology, another of his big ideas from America. At least my blood is clean and untainted from the poisonous fluid that is pumped around his body and through his obnoxious brain full of dribble.

I don’t consider myself a Goth, my long black leather coat and boots with their stainless steel buckles is from my admiration of the “Matrix”, a film I felt appealed to my open-minded view of our world’s future. Cutting my hair short and dyeing it blond was great, what a conversation stopper as I walked into the lecture that day. I think I felt a cosmic pulse rush through my body in response to their momentary silence. But not a Goth, after all I wasn’t dressed or covered in make up as characters in the film, “The Crow”.

Image -Welt.de


I am afraid of Jenny, she is a real Goth with a few meaningful tattoos on her left arm, black and white make up on her face and hair of fluorescent pink stripes with lines of purple. Surreal, dressed as a Halloween doll. She describes herself as a walking canvas reflecting her artistic interpretation of her period in time. I have no idea what she means but I suspect she is suited to her description as a modern artist waiting for her special moment. Normally, I feel uncomfortable near groups of girls and have no idea what to talk about beyond scientific notation. I always felt they were internally laughing at me, but probably not. My new image caused a kind of magnetic solar pulse of attention from them about my appearance.

Jenny spoke to me first, I am sure she had never noticed me before. That is until I started wearing my matrix look. It was exciting and she was an easy talker and the way she looked at me made my adrenaline burst through my veins causing my heart to race. Or was it the grip of testosterone that flared my cheeks?   However, I still felt awkward and flushed aghast when she described her body piercing, and how liberating it felt. I formed an erotic image that remains engrained in my mind and keeps me awake at night.

She insisted that I come with her in June to the Gothic Wave Festival in Leipzig. The photo’s, she showed me from last year were fantastic, all the costumes were amazing. I am drawn to her ideas of Gothic inhibitions and being part of something across Europe, but am still not sure. She wants to share a tent and I keep getting that image in my head of her secret steel pins locking and sealing her virginity until she was ready for her special moment.

The lecture is over and Jason has destroyed wave particle duality. Jenny will be in the café, waiting for my answer. Should I decide to go with her to Leipzig, I wonder if I will discover the meaning of her special moment?

Leipzig 2015 costumes.

Gothic Horror Story.

Castle Park House

Castle Park House

I have tried my hand at the Gothic…a dark sinister tale or is it failed romance. A large dark house, a premonition, a sighting of Haley’s Comet and a murder of revenge.  The eight year old Rachel is a witness to an attack on a young woman in the woods, but the incident is never confirmed.

Years later, Rachel now nineteen is involved in a murder that takes place on the same spot in the same manner, but it is still a further four years before a skeleton is discovered.

Read my story listed under the Short Story tab, Gothic Horror – Rachel. Tell me what you think?