old Archives - Spillwords

The Mystery House on My Street

Linda S. WilliamsOctober 20, 2019

The Mystery House on My Street written by: Linda S. Williams At the end of my street, Just before the country begins Is a big old house in wild...

EnglishHalloweenPoetry1 min read

Old Words

Brad OsborneOctober 10, 2019

Old Words written by: Brad Osborne Daily the grind To find the words To pen the line As yet unheard To offer thoughts Or new insight Uniqueness ...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Stone’s Age

Phillip Knight ScottSeptember 27, 2019

Stone's Age written by: Phillip Knight Scott @phillipscott What once was a pebble has gathered no moss, rolling (not yet declining?) towards middle...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Don’t Ask

Magdalena PodobińskaSeptember 18, 2019

Don't Ask written by: Magdalena Podobińska Don't ask about my age I wouldn't know what to say you see, there were so many birthdays so many d...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Old Tree

Mitch BenselSeptember 3, 2019

Old Tree written by: Mitch Bensel @mitchbensel I am an old tree my branches know when the storms will destroy when the sun will heal rain's moistu...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

The Shivering Hands and Shaky Voices

Anupama MishraJuly 2, 2019

The Shivering Hands and Shaky Voices written by: Anupama Mishra The shivering hands and shaky voices are left alone, nowadays. The days are unpleasan...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

The Shawl

Phyllis SouzaMay 2, 2019

The Shawl written by: Phyllis Souza In Ollie's world, things had changed. She'd grown old— ninety-one. Her olive-skinned hands blemished with liver ...

EnglishLiterature6 min read

Democracy

Ricky HawthorneApril 23, 2019

Democracy written by: Ricky Hawthorne @searsjames I hear him breaking in Carelessly Dismantling the window frame Fearlessly Knowing I am aware of...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry0 min read

Growing Into It

Lee DunnApril 5, 2019

Growing Into It written by: Lee Dunn So, I saw you many days when I was but a child. You were in fine leaf then. We lassoed you twice, and m...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Lament For Jazz

Stanley W. ShuraMarch 29, 2019

Lament For Jazz written by: Stanley W. Shura A walk down the path no simple thing do I undertake to find my swing. There lies a man hungry and col...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

My Little Gypsy

Ann Christine TabakaMarch 18, 2019

My Little Gypsy written by: Ann Christine Tabaka @TabakaChris Fiery jade eyes pierced the night, leading me to you. Seeking shelter from the wild, ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Sunday Best

Stanley WilkinFebruary 20, 2019

Sunday Best written by: Stanley Wilkin @catalhuyuk Her loneliness became her like a winter coat, drab but comforting, smothering her form as her so...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

The Siren’s Lament

William MastersNovember 20, 2018

The Siren’s Lament written by: William Masters Just recently, via snail mail, I received an invitation to a party I’d really like to attend. I...

EnglishFeatured PostLiterature24 min read

An Age Old Dream

Hasmukh MehtaSeptember 22, 2018

An Age Old Dream written by: Hasmukh Mehta Where are we today? still, a long way to go we have witnessed no upheaval and nothing has gone well we ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Phyllis P. Colucci is a freelance/indie author from Brooklyn, New York. She is currently retired from a Supervisory Administrative position with a Federal law enforcement agency in New York City, and is now pursuing her passion for writing fiction and poetry. She has always had a love for writing over the years, whether it be poetry, short stories or novels; and mystery and suspense is something she has recently gravitated towards with a touch of romance and that "New York edge". Phyllis has three novels, one novella and an Anthology of original poems currently on the Amazon market, and continues to be part of the Spillwords writing community by sharing/contributing her fiction and poetry on a monthly basis. She also has a writing blog under the name of "FictionTarot" where she hopes to entertain readers, take them on journeys page by page - and perhaps make a difference with a blog.

Bodies In The Basement by M. Taggart

It was a crisp, damp, October night.
“When we get to the Church I’ll go down first.” Colin was thinking of the moment when both he and Aaron would be standing at the top of the basement stairs peering down into the darkness.
The old stone Church was perched at the top of the largest hill on the prep school’s campus. Colin’s parents were professors at the school and their house was on campus grounds. They’d been waiting for Colin’s parents to fall asleep upstairs. Both boys were comfortable in their sleeping bags on the screened in porch. The lights had been turned out an hour ago and Colin felt it was time to slip into the night ...