Will Vigar

A Writer of Sorts

Goodbye Sean

That day, a would-be princess dressed in jaundiced rags, roaring with tropical anger, masked the sound of the telephone ringing.   Samuel Beckett’s voice-mail, all blink-light urgent, and with increasing … Continue reading

October 16, 2017 · Leave a comment

Rockall Sketches

1. Storm flirting kittywakes plummet as waves dance a reckless saltarello around the bluff islet. Luttering brine and summer squalls engulf. 2. Hasslewood hides – tooth rotten in the gum. … Continue reading

September 15, 2017 · Leave a comment

Lullaby

The frenetic signal lost from Luxembourg at 0045 hours nightly, gave me time to retune the transistor to the long wave, ghost whining of empty air.   White mono earphone … Continue reading

September 5, 2017 · Leave a comment

Laithe

The far barn was off limits; a mantra drummed into us from the day we moved in. No access to be had beyond   the rotting stiles and snow weathered … Continue reading

August 28, 2017 · Leave a comment

Hotel. Birmingham 19.8.17 (03:17am: I Am Insomnia’s Bitch)

Sitting by the threadbare curtains, looking over the illuminated building works, from the fourth floor, waiting for something interesting to happen. Birmingham sleeps,   but a drunken Mancunian does not. … Continue reading

August 19, 2017 · Leave a comment

Hotel. Birmingham. 18.8.17. (The Treachery of Mirrors)

The first non-Kelvin based writing I’ve done in about seven months.   Be gentle, I;m still not awake.   Hotel. Birmingham. 18.8.17. (The Treachery of Mirrors)   It’s 6:15 and … Continue reading

August 18, 2017 · Leave a comment

Seeds

With the battle lost, the remnants, ground down, were used as hardcore for roads, built to bolster shiny new tram lines that rush people past the ‘dozer razed haunt, with … Continue reading

July 13, 2017 · Leave a comment

Temptress -Another Tale From The Urban Prairie

The true story of my first visit to Sheffield. I had come for an interview at Shirecliffe College. Going by the reputation of the course and college, it was my … Continue reading

June 27, 2017 · Leave a comment

I Can Never Forgive Ann Widdicombe

  The day they tore the flats down, a woman dressed in a navy blue uniform with red silk sash – buttons and medals winking with delight in the low … Continue reading

June 17, 2017 · Leave a comment

I Saw – Another tale from Kelvin Flats

Twice a day she passes, each time tutting a mantra to banish the monolith.   Knowing, as she does, the obvious squalor of it’s subhuman inhabitants.   She writes her … Continue reading

June 13, 2017 · Leave a comment