Raymond G. Taylor
Bio
Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.
Stories (158/657)
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Oblivion: three
Having rearranged various appointments and assured my features editor I would later file the articles that she was expecting from me, I headed to the bank. Fortunately there was nothing I needed to submit to the news editor. Why I was taking such trouble over all this, I really did not know. Perhaps it was just the investigative journalist in me.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Fiction
Oblivion: two
The Institute of Directors is a stylishly elaborate Regency-era building at 116 Pall Mall, roughly halfway between Trafalgar Square and St James's Palace. The Palace of St James is the most senior palace in the UK and is where the Queen grants audience to foreign ambassadors and other dignitaries. It is used on ceremonial occasions and has a its own guard of honour. It is like a smaller, more discreet, and older version of Buckingham Palace, being built by order of King Henry VIII. I have never been inside the palace though I had walked past it enough times.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Fiction
Blank page bites back
What do you write on a blank page? Oh the fear, the excitement, the anticipation of that first word, the first sentence. Fear of getting it wrong. Ordinarily, I would not be particularly phased by the prospect of a blank page or, as in my case, a blank screen. On this occasion I had taken myself away for a one-man author's retreat to a lonely cottage on Dartmoor. Birthplace of many an Agatha Christie Mystery and bleak setting of The Hound of the Baskervilles, my least-favourite work by Arthur Conan-Doyle.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Fiction
Out of oblivion
"You don't exist." "And yet, here I am." O ~ o ~ The first time I met him I was working in London as a business reporter for the Financial Times. It was 1999. I had started to get all sorts of strange calls about the millennium bug, about the end of the world, the end of humanity and about climate change. This wasn't one of them. It was a regular call from one of my regular PR contacts. One of the more reliable PR firms in a business not noted for its reliability.
By Raymond G. Taylor7 months ago in Fiction
Cry shark
My first day as a lifeguard started with a crowded beach, a rip current, and then someone yelled, “Shark!” There were three of us on duty that day, as the tides were at their worst and we had a red flag flying. No swimming, no sailboarding, nothing afloat in the water until the current subsided. Typically, there was one Guy who just had to ignore the warnings and, from where I was standing, appeared to be flapping around in the water, possibly in trouble. Not only that, I was also the only guard near the waterline. Cassie was at the observation platform and Brad, my minder for the day, had just gone off to the restroom.
By Raymond G. Taylor8 months ago in Fiction
Stories in 100 words
A collection of Drabbles, stories written in exactly 100 words, written by the author Raymond G. Taylor. Listed in no particular order. Some you may have seen before, some will be new to you. All are written in exactly 100 words. Enjoy these satisfying one-minute reads.
By Raymond G. Taylor10 months ago in Fiction
Morning refrain
Striding through the early morning mist, I was soon high in the hills overlooking the village far below. Climbing ever higher, I once again heard the mournful melody of the pipes, as I did yesterday and every day these past weeks. Again, I strode on, anxious to pinpoint the source of the lament, to discover the lone piper whose daily dirge I had come to loath and yet love. I headed down into the valley, racing the Sun’s early rays. Alas, as always, too late. As the sunshine broke over the hills, the unseen player ceased, abruptly, his woeful refrain.
By Raymond G. Taylor10 months ago in Fiction
Wolf behind me
I could feel the presence, could feel it there close by, at all times. I could feel it there particularly when I wrote. As if a giant wolf stood behind me as I sat at my desk, bashing away at the Olivetti. More so when I sat there staring at the keys, wondering where to begin or how to continue.
By Raymond G. Taylor10 months ago in Fiction
