The Written Word Group

  Bravo left the tow path via the eight stone steps laid back when Victoria was on the throne and looked up at the Railway Tavern a short walk up the narrow-terraced street. “Bravo to Central, Citrep, over”. “Central receiving. Go ahead Bravo”. “Bravo. Approaching target location, two minutes. One obstacle. Will neutralise and proceed, out”. The suited gorilla standing at the entrance to the pub watched as the hiker, complete with backpack and hikers pole approached. He moved in front of the door in an obvious attempt to prevent anyone entering. “Private party pal, no entry for…..” The weighted handle of the hikers pole struck him heavily on the forehead and he crumpled to the pavement in and untidy, bleeding heap. Bravo pushed open the door and scanned the interior. It was half full of male drinkers who, to a man, ceased their conversations and looked warily at the intruder. “Hi, sorry to be a pain but I’m desperate for a loo. Two minutes and I’ll be out of your way” he looked dir...

  "Morning mum, are we still going to the amusement park later?" "Of course, son. And we will get a ride on the Roller Coaster and an ice-cream after." Mauricio's excitement was short-lived. Minutes after getting his ice-cream he collapsed. Inés ran to him and froze to see his lifeless body on the floor. "Somebody call an ambulance!"  Weeks and countless tests later, Dr Hector delivered the diagnosis as leukaemia. And he needed a bone marrow transplant. Mauricio was born after years of Inés and Cesar trying to conceive, through an embryo transplant at a private clinic; the son she'd longed for so long. He grew close to his mother, distant from his father, and after the divorce Inés kept full custody. Her mother, Lisa, had been her pillar ever since.   Mauricio wasn't responding to treatment, and the side effects were mounting. Time was running out. He'd had a couple of fits, his heart weakening by the day. Without a donor, he ...

I wanted to hold her hand, to reach for it. Feelings of euphoria which had come after making her laugh in wood tech, the last lesson of the day, swiftly evaporated as we passed the roundabout on our way to smuggler's ditch. She'd gone quiet and a small gap formed as we walked, as if she was trying to put physical distance between us. I knew the reason, Timbo. It was only a few weeks since he'd "Houdineed," so there was anxiety around, especially at school, and I was annoyed about the attention she was giving him. Yeah me and him had been closer but I knew they shared classes and the way she pined over his absence was sending me mind to pessimistic places. No, she didn't like him like that, she couldn't... We skirted the ditch, heading for the steep bank called the muddies. I kept stealing glances, slyly admiring her body; sleek, black hair, soft clean skin, and big, white, perfectly straight teeth. She'd catch me every now and then and I remember think...

Next Meeting: Friday 11th September 2026 Location: Hostal Meson Time 10.30-1pm 500 word subject: “Damsel in Distress” Everybody who has an interest in writing or the written word is welcome to our meetup at:  Hostal Meson Arboleas, Almeria, Spain.  Back Room.

"She was a hero you know. It was kept secret from the public. She had to to go to the CIA Headquarters at Langley to get her medal. Pinned on her chest by the Vice President himself. Got a French medal as well she couldn’t show. Most people thought she was just a translator during the war. Little did they know our Damsel was a covert operator." "Damsel? That’s an unusual name for a girl."  "Is it? Never thought much over it it. The wife was the one that, wanted her named Damsel. After that Hollywood actor." "Hollywood actor? Which one? I can’t place that actor with that name." “Yea, a black actor, was in some crazy Vampire movies. Went to prison for Tax evasion.” “You mean Blade, Wesley Snipes. She was named after Wesley Snipes? "No, not him, must be the other action Equalizer guy." “Oh Denzel Washington, you mean Denzel Washington." Yea, him, Damsel Washington. The wife loved him. Saw all his movies. Action her...

 https://www.juntadeandalucia.es/organismos/ema/areas/incendios-forestales/prevencion/interfase/normas-autoproteccion.html ****This isn't meant as a substitute for following the instructions of the emergency services during an incident.**** This guidance is issued by the **Regional Government of Andalusia (Junta de Andalucía)** for properties located in the **Wildland–Urban Interface (WUI)**—areas where homes are situated close to forests, woodland, or scrubland. It is intended to reduce the likelihood of homes igniting from radiant heat or wind-blown embers during a wildfire. PREVENTATIVE MEASURES FOR RESIDENTIAL DEVELOPMENTS. * Construct and maintain a firebreak around the development that is free of shrubs and tall grass, with a minimum width of **15 metres**. Trees may be retained, provided they are sparsely distributed and their canopies do not touch each other. * Remove vegetation and dry plant debris from all undeveloped areas, including abandoned plots, roadsides, and gulli...

 When the cuckoo comes to the bare thorn, sell your cow and buy your corn." - Old proverb. I couldn't stop thinking about those stones, what the oldies called Shepard's crowns. Could they exist, and could they protect me from the strange? It was a heavy night, close with mug. Petrichoral aromas wafted strong from outside as I heard the first angry rumblings at sundown. The heat clung to me and the air closed in, a great crack sounded and a bright flash lit the bedroom. The storm grew rapidly in an impressive display, it was right overhead, seemed to wait there, deliberately striking around the village and surrounding silver hills, and though aware these were the conditions needed for the stones to appear, I wouldn't allow meself to believe. That would've been ridiculous. The storm stopped suddenly but moisture hung on the atmosphere like a wet towel. Must've dozed off... Thinking back, I remember that in me halfsleep, I'd a notion there was someone outside....

I was born in  Chile,  bred  in the UK, and retired to Spain. But to understand who I am today, you have to go back, all the way back to where the itch began. In September 1973 Salvador Allende was overthrown by the Chilean military financed and  supported by the USA. Overnight our world collapsed.  Mum, my two sisters and I fled to Argentina leaving  our house, our  belongings, our relatives, and our friends  behind us, in search of our father who had crossed the Andes by foot to Argentina a few months before.  Dad was on the military's hit list for being an active supporter of Allende. He would've been killed if found, as was the fate of many. My middle sister and I had no option but to live in the shadows moving from one safe house to another, while  mum contacted friends to borrow money for the train tickets to cross the border to Argentina. We were NOT living, we were hiding. We settled in San Juan, Argentina for about a...

  Next Meeting: 10 July 2026 Location: Hostal Meson Time 10.30-1pm 500 word subject: “Scratch the Itch” Everybody who has an interest in writing or the written word is welcome to our meetup at:  Hostal Meson Arboleas.