The Written Word Group

SPARKLES - THE EUROSIAN GOLDEN ORIOLE We as newcomers arrived to this wonderful arid land of Los Huevanillas nine years ago. I was unaware of its beauty until I ventured into the surroundings, so rich in its flora and fauna. Almond trees come in bloom between the months of January and March, orange trees in bloom during the months of April, olive trees in May and June, and not forgetting the multiple blooming of the lemon trees throughout the year. The bees busy buzzing pollinating the flowers, birds singing their morning songs and different insects aerating and fertilising the soil which is breathtaking. The contact with nature made me feel alive. I was perceptive to the different birds, busy singing when I heard this distinctive and particular bird song which registered in my mind. I noticed the same singing the following year. So we named this gorgeous bird Sparkles. He visits us every year in the early month of May keeping us company throughout the summer....

  A great write up for The Written Word Group celebrating the release of our first book, Dances with Words , available to buy on Amazon Prime and Kindle. The Euro Weekly reporter, Harry Dennis, completely captures the essence of the group in this editorial piece; https://euroweeklynews.com/2025/11/16/stories-that-connect-inside-almerias-written-word-group

Newcomer primed his weapon as quick as he could. He could manage three shots a minute from his long rifle. All of them hitting a target. He had pulled his Pennsylvania woodsmen into the trees as soon as the ambush happened. And they watched as the pride of the British army got shot to pieces by savages fighting a different war, than the Redcoats were used to. Braddock was an idiot, and Newcomer had said as much to Washington. But was ignored. The Redcoats Brown Bess Muskets blasted out to no effect. Just hitting the dense trees in the forests. The Shawnee, Mingo and Delaware just hid and then returned their deadly fire. There was Canadian militia men in there with them as well, giving us all hell. Newcomer watched Washington galloping up and down trying to rally the troops to no avail. The Redcoats lined up as they had been trained and followed General Braddock’s outdated orders. But this was wilderness fighting, with wilderness rules. Hide then shoot, ambush, flanking moves, and not t...

          I was about four or five, if I remember correctly, when a man, strangely dressed in either green or brown, pressed a small key into my hand.   My mam told me to put it in the small box I kept in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet, that way I wouldn’t lose it. I suppose it really started when I was seven or eight, possibly even nine, I know that the war was over and people said that we’d won, and there wouldn’t be any more wars.   I raced from the house and down the street to where Davy Hughes and Tommy Randle were messing about on the corner of Albert Street.   I strode up to Davy as mad as anything and slapped his face with one of my mam’s gloves.           “What you do that for?” he asked, all surprised like.           “I’m changing you to a duet and that’s what the Frenchie’s do.   I seen ‘em on the pictures.” ...

  It was an estate agent’s nightmare. Never had Nigel needed to dissuade a client from selling a prestigious property. The penthouse covered the entire top floor of the converted hat factory and featured a stunning roof terrace, complete with outdoor kitchen and mammoth, party-sized hot tub. The indoor kitchen was a cavernous temple to industrial décor and the master bedroom incorporated a huge waterbed, whirlpool bath and walk-in wardrobe. There were his and hers washbasins in the ensuite, but the ‘hers’ basin was rarely used, and its toothbrush holder remained empty. Simon, the owner, preferred it that way. Simon’s property development company had transformed the hat factory into luxury apartments and awarded Nigel the contract to sell them all, bar one. Nigel smashed the brief and cleaned up on commission, whilst Simon enhanced his already colossal fortune. In the process, mutual respect had turned into a sort of friendship, which was why Nigel could not stand by and let Simon s...

  In the Oxfordshire village of Great Wenderby, Halloween is a big deal. Parents clamour to ensure their darlings are spookily yet charmingly attired. Amazon costumes don’t cut it there. Specialist suppliers are de rigueur, unless one can afford the ultimate status symbol - a costume handstitched by a stay-at-home wife - but these are rare. No one can do Great Wenderby on one salary. Not unless there’s family money. PR guru Annabel Bright is transforming daughter Aurora into the perfect Wednesday Addams. She glues fat false eyelashes onto her eight-year-old, applies styling wax to her blue-black plaits, then stands back to admire her artistry. She had wanted to accompany Aurora dressed as a sexy, slinky Morticia, but she has a massive pitch the following day, so must delegate to husband Josh, who is cruelly, but not entirely inaccurately nicknamed ‘Dim’ by his fellow investment bankers. Annabel suggested in vain that they take her surname when they married. Their ten-year-old son A...