All posts by Andrew Cheverton

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Echoes Of Unspoken Words

Many people have sat in this chair. Some of them have died in it. Some die easy, some die hard. But everybody who sits in the chair talks. Some rush to it, as if they believe that will lessen the pain. Others hold out, gritting

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The Circus Lives On Top Of The Hill

It’s winter now, when I think of them. Their faded and tattered tents strung across woodworm-riddled poles. Red and white canvas stripes of reminiscent joy now merged and faded to amorphous pink, like a thrice-washed bloodied shroud. And the wonderful wooden keys and brass pipes

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One Cup Of Coffee

She had black hair, and white skin – white so it seemed you could almost see through it – and eyes that were a shade of green only eyes could be; many shades of green, and sparkling. Bright red lipstick. Patchwork trilby. ‟Hi, is anyone