Alex Carrick’s Blog

Regal and relaxed; five foot six or so; in her early twenties; hair in a pixie cut; flawless light brown skin. Those were some of the phrases that came to Sylvia’s mind as the young woman floated into her store. Sylvia was alerted by the sound of a bell set off by the opening wooden screen [...]

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With the exception of a section towards the end of this story, all of the events recorded below occurred in one special year. The season and the locales are noted in italics. ** Early spring, Barrie, Ontario, Canada: The first officer on the scene struggled to come up with a reaction. He thought it wasn’t [...]

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Beginnings oft times are brutal. Unfortunately, so are endings. In between is mostly a race. A mad dash to grow up, acquire knowledge and earn a living, whether honestly or not. Events spin out of control. The passing show’s a blur. On the final leg, if we’re lucky and fate hasn’t already intervened, we race [...]

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One can easily turn reflective with the passage of the years. Birthdays serve to stimulate strolls down meandering and wayward paths. As I approach “the golden years”, I know I’m supposed to be thinking of travel, playing golf, putting my feet up, reaping my rewards. But I’m not sure any of that is for me.  So here’s [...]

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There were several reasons why Giles’ mood was tanking. First, there was the change in seasons. Summer was only a degree or two away from turning into fall. Giles loved the summer. He lived in a northern clime and the winters were long and harsh. The cold weather, when he’d been a child, had encompassed [...]

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It was late of an evening and I’d run out of milk and snacks. Besides, I wanted some fresh air. That’s how it came about I was on my way to the local Daisy Mart before it closed at ten p.m. You don’t get fog in the city much anymore. Too much traffic. There’s an [...]

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This is a more serious piece than I usually write. It’s another effort at prose/poetry based on an important theme, how many of us become trapped into doing what we may not want to do. By the way, should anyone wonder if my ventures in this area are an attempt to ease the burden of [...]

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Mille Feuille hated and loved the Mix Master. Both were stars in their tiny firmament. They were on the faculty of the English Department at a smallish but well-respected university in Peterborough, Ontario. The academic life in such a small community was a tiny whirlwind of activity that mimicked the larger vortex in nearby Toronto [...]

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Apparently I have more of these kinds of stories in me. I view them as narrative, but my wife says they’re poetry. Please feel free to decide for yourself. **** All was peace and future blindness, not to know, a blessed kindness. A family strolls a hidden laneway, gently descending to sandy beach. Poplar ushers [...]

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I refer to this piece as half poetry, half storytelling and half crazy. Since there is a poetic element, I’d like the flow to be consistent down the page (or screen, actually, in this case). Thus present preamble to take the intro past the picture of the scholarly-looking gentleman on the right (your left). **** [...]

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