Author Archives: CageWriter

About CageWriter

Englishman Living in France with my wife and bilingual son. I'm a struggling writer as in I struggle to write even though I feel it's my calling. I get easily side tracked, this blog being a case in point!

Bicycle Race

  A bird flying overhead, should it take the time to consider the lay of the land below, would see a grid made up of streets and back alleys. Between each street and its respective alleyway are red brick houses … Continue reading

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Mud…for Jean.

Mud Within the faux oak panelled walls of the funeral director’s inner sanctum, Adele could hear the faint sound of weeping. This place, she thought, was a terminus for grief; journey’s end. For many it was where they got off, … Continue reading

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The Spectrum of incredulity. Part two. Maya.

Maya ‘What happened?’ Maya asked, groggily through a misty veil of uncertainty. Everything was behind her. She’d been pulled along by distant tides, bobbing on the waves, helpless, too tired to fight the inevitable pull. She saw her memories disappear, … Continue reading

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The spectrum of incredulity – part one – The abduction of truth.

The abduction of truth. The armchair, Peter thought, reflected his present condition, tired, threadbare, unfashionable, unwanted and difficult to match with anything else. Not that he had much else to match it with other than a coffee table that seemed … Continue reading

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Fuck it Barry

The car pulled off the road onto a lane that led to a picnic area in the forest. The driver cut the engine and relied on the lane’s slight gradient to take him and his cargo another few hundred yards … Continue reading

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Earl Gray

Earl Gray Father Mathew studied the group of mourners from the corner of one curious eye, the other eye concentrated on the lighting of candles with Godly intent. Eight people huddled in a ‘mutter’ around the coffin, around the deceased. … Continue reading

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The Hubris of Will

 Note discovered by William in his bible…at church, last Sunday. ‘YOU Make mE SICK Will’ In the dark recesses of the mind, in the slightest crack, under dusty old crates filled with forgotten memories, lurks the beast.  The beast feeds … Continue reading

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