'Alone in the water, she rose and fell with every wave, counting each one in turn, becoming each one. Was this then her destiny? All was quiet, save for a lone voice from within. It was whispering to her, coaxing her, soothing her, murdering her. 'Close your eyes, go to sleep now.' With genuine love and understanding, a single tear trickled down her cheek to the slowly forming smile. Jumbled thoughts and half-lost memories suddenly became clear to her. Now she understood. Closing her eyes, she rose with the ninth wave.'
A collection of stories meticulously composed and each with their own hidden meaning.
But the meaning may be different to the individual reader.
'I breathe shallow deep inside of me
I see the cracked dusty surface of your bedroom floor. The stained dry sun bleached plain that begs for more .
We drift in and out of conscious conversation
From your window I can see the musty dusty green hills. The fake pictures that hang on the walls . The dust that trickles out into the hall
Prophetic words in your diaries all speak of isolation. Always forever
Never want to be
I breathe shallow deep inside of me
In white pregnant layers of linen clouds
We hide inside until the light trickles away
To you we may be stillborn until a new day
Brings faded glimmers of lavender truth
Always forever Never want to be
I breathe shallow deep inside of me'
'Summer has drained
into an emptying autumn
The smell of the mist
and the soil
The sharp bite of winter on my lip
See how natures death shroud
mourns the passing sun
It is in these days that I sit here
and think of you
A thought sent out on the curl of the wind
Once, when we sat here
the winter sun pierced my eyes
And your gaze
pierced my heart
fallen thoughts trembles on a falling leaf
Slipping through the whispers
in October light'
'The sweet smell of grass mingles with the scent of the rain. A dark canopy of night, embroidered with constellations, hangs over the heather. The sounds of night birds and crickets harmonize in the breeze. The cry of an occasional owl disturbs the symphony of darkness, but the music is only broken for a moment.'
A collection of short tales, which could, given time, be expanded into longer stories.
The stories are presented as edits from the originals. Tales of love, of life, of death and sacrifice, but most of all, love.
'Grey skies like flashing steel cover the sun.
The clouds white and silver march westward while some, like wisps of smoke curl behind treetops.
A fleeting ray of sunlight warms me for a second while soft gusts of wind ruffle my hair and cool down my face.
The rain clouds are approaching me and all the grass and languid oaks shift in the quickening breeze.
When I feel the first drops of rain, I will be cleansed by these hallowed skies.'
'Do not be afraid
it is only a harmless moon
all we can do is to assume
Our lives must change
a change is due
I hear you say, what are we gonna do
Grant me one wish
don’t give me one reward
time of the final call
My dream was that you were a reptile
you flew across the sky
A slate grey cloud that filled the sky
coming through the dust
do not be afraid, it's a harmless moon'
Published titles cover travel, biography, memoir and fiction – sometimes all between the same dust jacket. As one newspaper reviewer put it, 'Mark’s writing embraces ‘those curious factive fictions that lurk on the border between literature and human topography.’