Search This Blog

Tuesday, 17 April 2018



                                                          A TOAD IN THE HOLE

                                                                   by Eagle Brave

Why am I here? I asked myself! I tried to open my eyes but I couldn’t! 
I tried to touch; everything I touched had a shape of sponge very soft and smooth! 
I tried to open my mouth and shout I couldn’t! I was in a very big deep hole. 
I slapped my face to wake myself up; still my mind was very far! I was very thirsty but couldn’t see any water there! 
My stomach was making noise, I was very hungry I needed food; I couldn’t see any food there!
 I thought I was going to die. In my dream, I could see myself breathing the last breath. 
On other side, my mind tells me to keep fighting! 
I breathed in and breathed out strongly! I manage to open my eyes. 
In front of me, was a very tall creature I have never seen before! I closed my eyes and say ‘oh God help me! 
That’s when I heard a big voice bursting through my ears like thunderstorm ‘run!’ I started running towards the end of the path! 
I couldn’t see where I was going! After a short run, another block! A big hole in front of me with water on it, before I decide what to do, I see a toad from the other side of the path jumping in the hole! 
There were thunderstorms and breezes! Something squished my ears 
‘What was that? ‘She asked,
’A toad in the hole ‘I replied. 
‘That’s not a toad, that’s a frog’ she said! 
Then I heard another voice,’Jump!’
 ‘Jump to where?’ I asked .
Before I say anything else I felt a push behind my back. I was on my way down to another hole. I shouted loud ‘no way ‘and I was up sweating on my bed. 
I looked around, my wife was looking at me
'What’s wrong with you tonight?’ she asked.
’ Am having bad dreams, where are we? I asked her
’ In Yorkshire’ she replied. 
 "What did we have for dinner last night? I asked her.
’A toad in the hole’ she replied! 
I switched off light, cuddle her and go back to sleep while saying to myself’ It wasn’t a toad in the hole; it was a toad in the hell.' Good night!.

Monday, 16 April 2018

TRIANGLE OF TORMENT by James L.S. Carter and Thomas Hoskyns Leonard


Here is an excerpt from our new novel which was read to the Edinburgh Writers' Club in the Hilton Grosvenor Hotel on the evening of Monday 16th April 2018. The response by the other members was positive.


James L.S. Carter and Thomas Hoskyns Leonard


It was April 1972, and Malky McLachlan was a mere Diploma in Education student in the fiercely independent Moray House, where his history tutor focussed almost entirely on the Scottish Reformation and mentioned John bloody Knox at least twice a minute.
Malky was left wondering whether to switch to ' Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.'
With this life-changing decision in mind, he took his cheeseburger and chips to eat on a white-painted bench outside the classically D-shaped McEwan Hall (where the toffee-nosed Edinburgh University students were awarded their degrees upon graduation). He was nervous about entering the snooty University of Edinburgh Student Union without the right sort of ID in case he was ejected as a rank outsider.
A fulsome girl with pigtails ensconced herself on the end of the bench, slurping her strawberry milkshake.
Hi, I'm in Law,” she snivelled, searching for her crimson lipstick in her green handbag which had been well-spattered by the milkshake.
History,” replied scrawny Malky, nonchalently, though feeling embarrassed about the pimples beneath his prune-like eyes.
How bloody impressive,” she replied, scratching her ear.
Malky rubbed his obloid chin. And my elective at St. Andrews was in Pure Mathematics.”
The girl pursed her lips, and opened that month's edition of Cosmopolitan.
I get a kick out of groups, rings, and weak convergence,” he added, limply.
“What a shocking picture of Burt Reynolds!” she exclaimed.
Wot a tosser!” blurted Malky. “By the bys, I'm gonna to a sleazy party on the Royal Terrace later. Wanna come?
“Who else will be there?”
Pompous piss artists from George St., starving students, and sleazy diplomats,” replied Malky, feeling as self-indulgent as the crazy Greek God Dionysus. “There'll be lashings of acid.”
“I'm not into that sort of trip,” retorted the lass, with an inexplicable twitch, “and I'm beginning not to like you.”
Wot a bloody shame. Are you sure? How 'bout a stretch in the Meadows?”
How dare you!” shrieked the girl, spitting the dregs of her milkshake into Malky's face. “I'm away to my tutorial on social jurisprudence.”
The delicately handsome Joe Hamilton was as mercurial as the God Hermes himself. He noticed Malky's plight, chuckled, and thought he'd have some sport with the homely fellow, though he didn't really understand his own motives at all.
Better luck next time, Jock.” commisserated Joe, walking up. “She looked like an obstinate bizzom if ever there was one.”
I wanna date a girl like my sister,” moaned Malky, wiping his face, but I get to go to weird parties and get laid by the fat broads and hard-arsed lessies.”
You should try to be more classy,” replied Joe, with a slight sneer. “They taught me that sort of stuff and nonsense at Gillespies.”
Ain't that a girl's school? ”
Y-Yes,” stuttered Joe.
I thought it was Jean Brodie country. My Great Aunt Nancy says that stuck up bitch was as flighty as Aphrodite herself.”
B-but they have a small intake of b-boys nowadays,” stammered Joe. “It's about to become a co-educational comprehensive.
Malky gave Joe the once over. “I see! And wot do you study?”

Wednesday, 4 April 2018

MOONWALK DANCING ON LEITH WALK a short story by Eagle Brave


by Eagle Brave
Lightly edited by Tom Leonard

Leith streets are overwhelmed with the arrival of a Michael Jackson type of artist from the Czech Republic. Everyone is talking about his moonwalk moves if not his big cowboy hat, long cloak, and silver shoes. You could get to see him doing his moon walk in the morning when is walking up to Prince Street or in the evening when is going back down to Constitution Street. He could throw his big cloak around in mind blowing style; lift up his cowboy hats several times while doing his moon walk dance. In the morning, you could see people at their windows watching at him doing his moonwalk dance, the same in the evening when is going back to the bottom of Leith. No one knew where he lived .In evening you will find him at the Shore Man pub in Leith doing his Michael Jackson impressionist. People laughing and buy him drinks. He didn’t obviously have a proper job.

Today I am here at the local Shore Man pub in Leith, the second home of Michael Jackson of Leith. It is around 1800 pm, still can’t find him. The pub is so crowded; our dour and totally obstructive local MSP Mr John Wilhelm Beethoven is here too. We just had a local meeting with the council about Trams extension in Leith. After the meeting, we all decided to meet at the Shore Man to get to see The Michael Jackson of Leith. Lenora the green activist who is totally opposing the idea of constructing the trams in Leith is at the pub too. I can also see two fascist tram-workers Matilda and Patricia who are sitting the same table with the obstreperous Mr Beethoven. On the other side of the pub, I see the Mafioso-esque representatives of the corrupt Italian firm who are trying to win the construction deal.
While I am still looking around, Michael Jackson of Leith walked in. He walked in with style, twirling his coat, pressing his hat side to side and doing his moonwalk dance. Everyone shouted Michael, Michael. He is introduced to our local MSP and had a photo taken together by one of Edinburgh evening news photographers. Lenora, the green activist holds Michael Jackson hands, and start dancing moonwalk together. I had seen enough ,I walked out and go to my house for a good night after a long day .
The next morning I was up early, go to the shop, buy the Edinburgh morning newspaper. I looked at the front page; there was a photo of our local MP and Michael Jackson dancing together. I laughed and walk away. On my way to my house at Elm Row Street I saw Michael Jackson and Lenora entering in Mac Donald Library holding their hands together. I was passionate to know what’s going on! I followed them and went sit beside their table, act like reading something from the book. Michael Jackson was telling Lenora he has been getting free bus fair money from Mr Beethoven and uses that money for Gin and Tonic, in return for dancing with the MSP all the way down Leith Walk to Wetherspoons. He also reveals that he is not really into Michael Jackson. He is a representative of Czech Republic firm who are trying to win the trams contract from the Italians. He persuaded Lenora to join him; she will get reward after the company securing the contract. He also told Lenora he is not actually from Czech Republic, he is from London and he is an accountant .To confirms that, two other members of that Czech Republic firm arrived to meet Lenora. I walked out; make a call to my friend Nick who is the writer of evening news. I gave him a short brief of Michael Jackson. He asked me to get their photo together; Michael Jackson and Lenora .I managed to do that and send to him. 
In the evening the whole story was in the news .The photo I took of Michael Jackson and Lenora was on front page. I tried to reach our local MSP Mr John Wilhelm Beethoven; I was told he just had a heart attack. I couldn’t care less, I was happy to save some millions of working hard people, paying their taxes. I put my jacket on and walk down to Easter roads doing moonwalk like Michael Jackson to watch Hibernian football club game. It was a good evening.

Tuesday, 3 April 2018

A PROMISE, a poem by Eagle Brave



by Eagle Brave

Some call me the arrival,
Some call me a survivor,
Some call me the lost one,
I call myself number one,
Nine months in my months in my mom’s womb,
I couldn’t hear anything than a comb,
Now I am her crying,
I came here smiling,
Surrounded by sad faces,
Different nations, different races,
I want to go back I can’t,
I want to fight back! That’s right,
Pollution, diseases everywhere,
Earthquakes, tsunamis not fair,
I was promised a beautiful land,
My excitement! Buried to the sand,
I smell blood, nations fighting,
Innocent children, women killing,
Hunger, poverty everywhere,
I want to go back, nowhere,
I look up the sky; the sun tells me fight,
I look up the clouds, the moon tells right,
The big seas, oceans I hear voice,
Fight for your right, that’s the choice,
I say to myself I’m brave,
I will fight to the grave,
Wisdom, integrity my weapon,
My stay here is for a season.

Monday, 2 April 2018

THE POETIC SOUL a birthday poem by James L.S, Carter



                                                                 THE POETIC SOUL

                                                                  by James L.S. Carter

                                             The poetic soul of Tom is with Penny

                                             In Kelso.

                                             The poetic soul of Tom is with Penny
                                             In Dirleton.

                                             It is a statistician's soul.

                                             It is a chess-playing soul.

                                             It is a Quaker soul.

                                             Above all, Tom is a hospitable soul.

                                             I have witnessed his hospitality

                                             Almost ever week in Pearce's

                                             And every so often here in La Vittoria

                                             Where we witness his hospitality today

                                             On the occasion of Tom's 70th birthday

                                             Where we experience his poetic soul

                                             Of Quaker hospitality.

                                             God bless Tom.


                                                             James L.S. Carter 24th March 2018