John Cox

Joined January 2021

220 stories

Bio

Old school writer of mind bending tales. I never met a myth I didn't love or a subject that I couldn't twist out of joint. I have a little something for almost everyone here. Cept AI. Ain't got none of that.

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Stories (220)

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His Curses Sting
I know an old man with Tourette's Who swears every chance that he gets If you look at him funny I'll wager lotsa money His curses sting worse than lost bets!
By John Coxabout a year ago in Poets
My Annus Mirabilis
My dearest One, Your tearful gaze at our parting torments my every waking thought. It has broken my heart beyond mending. I vowed to make a clean break, to neither write to you nor read any of your letters after my arrival in Rome, but my need for you has o’rewhelmed my weakening resolve.
By John Coxabout a year ago in History
The Romance of the Rose
To my only love after Christ, Peter Abelard; Heloise, abbess of the Paraclete. Thy most recent letter did astonish me to tears. I shalt write this only once to unburden my heart to thee like I did in former days when we still communed and loved one another as equals. On my oath to Christ, I shalt never do it againe.
By John Coxabout a year ago in History
Lancelot to my Guinevere
To the worthy Paolo, son of Malatesta, Francesca daughter of Guido, greetings and the unbreakable bond of love. I long for thy return, my beloved. I pray that the battle's business is well and soon ended and thou art quickly restored to my welcoming arms.
By John Coxabout a year ago in History
happy to be lost
Do you remember how we met? I ask softly. Yes, you whisper, I remember. The sun had rode high in the sky that day while I strolled through the surrounding trees, the sunlight pleasantly warm upon my back. Eventually I entered a glade where a doe and two fawns nibbled the surrounding grass. The doe looked up at me but did not bolt. Animals unafraid of men seemed a good sign.
By John Coxabout a year ago in Fiction
the flames dance in thy bright eyes
hollow eyes stare out of the gloom, but no move does the lean hunter make the fire crackling beneath venison on the spit a lone meal for me and mine own cub, we are hungry too,
By John Coxabout a year ago in Poets
Flour-sack Cindy. Top Story - February 2025.
Threading the crush of the other dancers, Cindy’s skin sparkled under the ballroom’s lights, the fragrance of spring in her wake drawing the bewildered gaze of all those who had blocked her pathway.
By John Coxabout a year ago in Fiction
an impossible dream
time improbably reversing a mother’s love rekindles Mary holding our grand babe in wonderment filling my eyes with tears
By John Coxabout a year ago in Poets
The Art of being Human
For those of you who somehow missed reading Hannah Moore's article Shameless? in the Writers community posted prior to Christmas, I would like to encourage all of you who have not purchased The Ancient Ones story anthology by the writer's group W.A. Gruppe to do so. This is not a paid endorsement.
By John Coxabout a year ago in Geeks
Just a couple of Kids. Runner-Up in Through the Lens Challenge.
Almost three months after turning 60, my wife and I received an amazing gift in the birth of our first grandchild, Campbell. Life in one of its enduring ironies determined that he would come into the world the day following the memorial service for my wife's brother, Ken.
By John Coxabout a year ago in Photography
the life and years the locusts have eaten
it happens sometimes I awaken so strangely I do not remember where I am lost in a once familiar space
By John Coxabout a year ago in Poets
Children of Wrath. Top Story - January 2025.
Had I but rhymes, ever rugged and coarse, Fit for this bleak tale, I might sweeten The sting of piteous truth, wooing the
By John Coxabout a year ago in Poets