รɦคᛕﻉร
@theshakes72.bsky.social
Trees, landscapes & the backs of people's heads. 🌎 citizen.
Don’t worry, it’s only a story.
Don’t worry, it’s only a story.
1/5 Shadows
Some shadows stretch longer than the day,
touching corners you thought were empty,
lingering where you least expect them.
#LossLit
Some shadows stretch longer than the day,
touching corners you thought were empty,
lingering where you least expect them.
#LossLit
February 11, 2026 at 9:11 PM
1/5 Shadows
Some shadows stretch longer than the day,
touching corners you thought were empty,
lingering where you least expect them.
#LossLit
Some shadows stretch longer than the day,
touching corners you thought were empty,
lingering where you least expect them.
#LossLit
I was going to the #mumfordandsons album launch show with the wife, but now I'm going to #deftones next week instead with the lad. It's a tough life. 😁
February 7, 2026 at 11:33 AM
I was going to the #mumfordandsons album launch show with the wife, but now I'm going to #deftones next week instead with the lad. It's a tough life. 😁
At midnight, the mind convenes its court.
Questions, unkind facts, a younger self on trial.
No jury but memory, no gavel but time.
Verdict unspoken:
proceed, do better, carry the record forward - and rest.
Questions, unkind facts, a younger self on trial.
No jury but memory, no gavel but time.
Verdict unspoken:
proceed, do better, carry the record forward - and rest.
January 31, 2026 at 2:22 PM
At midnight, the mind convenes its court.
Questions, unkind facts, a younger self on trial.
No jury but memory, no gavel but time.
Verdict unspoken:
proceed, do better, carry the record forward - and rest.
Questions, unkind facts, a younger self on trial.
No jury but memory, no gavel but time.
Verdict unspoken:
proceed, do better, carry the record forward - and rest.
I've written every day this year. Unfortunately, it's mostly work stuff, but it's writing and it feels ace. I do have a short story I need to dust off and polish up. #anwriting #flashdogs
January 31, 2026 at 12:43 PM
I've written every day this year. Unfortunately, it's mostly work stuff, but it's writing and it feels ace. I do have a short story I need to dust off and polish up. #anwriting #flashdogs
Reposted by รɦคᛕﻉร
"Two of life's greatest pleasures, by my reckoning, are camping and reading - most gloriously, both at once."
Love this.
Love this.
January 17, 2026 at 2:32 PM
"Two of life's greatest pleasures, by my reckoning, are camping and reading - most gloriously, both at once."
Love this.
Love this.
Reposted by รɦคᛕﻉร
"David is a reflective, principled, slightly wary leader who writes to stay honest, who knows power is real, who does not want to be owned by it, and who is quietly preparing for a life beyond the role even while still taking the role seriously."
1/4 🧵 On Writing:
I have been writing a lot and posting it here. You’ve noticed. My daughter’s friends have noticed too (sorry Emi). I enjoy writing and have recently reconnected with that love.
I have been writing a lot and posting it here. You’ve noticed. My daughter’s friends have noticed too (sorry Emi). I enjoy writing and have recently reconnected with that love.
January 17, 2026 at 10:19 AM
"David is a reflective, principled, slightly wary leader who writes to stay honest, who knows power is real, who does not want to be owned by it, and who is quietly preparing for a life beyond the role even while still taking the role seriously."
Reposted by รɦคᛕﻉร
Prince of Darkness. One of the all time great fever dream movies.
There's a tangible nightmare texture running through that whole thing.
There's a tangible nightmare texture running through that whole thing.
January 16, 2026 at 10:46 PM
Prince of Darkness. One of the all time great fever dream movies.
There's a tangible nightmare texture running through that whole thing.
There's a tangible nightmare texture running through that whole thing.
It's John Carpenter's birthday. A genre stalwart it's no easy pick choosing a favourite film. His remake of The Thing, Escape from New York (and LA), They Live, Prince of Darkness, Halloween, The Fog... All classics
January 16, 2026 at 10:16 PM
It's John Carpenter's birthday. A genre stalwart it's no easy pick choosing a favourite film. His remake of The Thing, Escape from New York (and LA), They Live, Prince of Darkness, Halloween, The Fog... All classics
We played board games for a while last night, and we're having a traditional roast lunch at 2pm today. 2026 is about slowing the pace and remembering what matters.
January 11, 2026 at 1:03 PM
We played board games for a while last night, and we're having a traditional roast lunch at 2pm today. 2026 is about slowing the pace and remembering what matters.
The snow brings things with it.
Not tracks. Other arrivals.
They wait where sight thins,
behave if you look straight on.
By morning the snow is clean again.
You call it winter tricks.
They wait for the next fall.
Not tracks. Other arrivals.
They wait where sight thins,
behave if you look straight on.
By morning the snow is clean again.
You call it winter tricks.
They wait for the next fall.
January 5, 2026 at 9:21 PM
The snow brings things with it.
Not tracks. Other arrivals.
They wait where sight thins,
behave if you look straight on.
By morning the snow is clean again.
You call it winter tricks.
They wait for the next fall.
Not tracks. Other arrivals.
They wait where sight thins,
behave if you look straight on.
By morning the snow is clean again.
You call it winter tricks.
They wait for the next fall.
London held still for a moment.
Sunshine, coffee, the river doing its work.
This will stay.
Later, a quiet pub.
A board game, an excellent sour beer,
time chose not to hurry.
Sunshine, coffee, the river doing its work.
This will stay.
Later, a quiet pub.
A board game, an excellent sour beer,
time chose not to hurry.
January 4, 2026 at 7:19 PM
London held still for a moment.
Sunshine, coffee, the river doing its work.
This will stay.
Later, a quiet pub.
A board game, an excellent sour beer,
time chose not to hurry.
Sunshine, coffee, the river doing its work.
This will stay.
Later, a quiet pub.
A board game, an excellent sour beer,
time chose not to hurry.
Reposted by รɦคᛕﻉร
"Things Move" by David Shakes @TheShakes72.bsky.social is today's 75-word #story on Paragraph Planet paragraphplanet.com #writingcommunity #amwriting
Creative writing website for authors and readers. 75 words, changing daily. Submit your
paragraph today.
A flash fiction website for writers and readers. One 75 word tale published daily. Plus author interviews and writing group map
paragraphplanet.com
January 4, 2026 at 3:11 PM
"Things Move" by David Shakes @TheShakes72.bsky.social is today's 75-word #story on Paragraph Planet paragraphplanet.com #writingcommunity #amwriting
The latch won’t bite. I pass through the door like mist.
Inside, the rug is a desert. I see your shadow, grief-heavy.
I bark. I scratch. Nothing answers.
The door is open. I cannot find my way in.
#poetry
Inside, the rug is a desert. I see your shadow, grief-heavy.
I bark. I scratch. Nothing answers.
The door is open. I cannot find my way in.
#poetry
January 2, 2026 at 11:13 AM
The latch won’t bite. I pass through the door like mist.
Inside, the rug is a desert. I see your shadow, grief-heavy.
I bark. I scratch. Nothing answers.
The door is open. I cannot find my way in.
#poetry
Inside, the rug is a desert. I see your shadow, grief-heavy.
I bark. I scratch. Nothing answers.
The door is open. I cannot find my way in.
#poetry
Time wore a hole
in the pocket where I kept my keys.
Everything drifted out,
settled in the grass.
I stand with empty hands.
The wind touches my skin.
It’s cold,
and it feels like air for the first time in years.
#poetry
in the pocket where I kept my keys.
Everything drifted out,
settled in the grass.
I stand with empty hands.
The wind touches my skin.
It’s cold,
and it feels like air for the first time in years.
#poetry
December 30, 2025 at 3:07 PM
Time wore a hole
in the pocket where I kept my keys.
Everything drifted out,
settled in the grass.
I stand with empty hands.
The wind touches my skin.
It’s cold,
and it feels like air for the first time in years.
#poetry
in the pocket where I kept my keys.
Everything drifted out,
settled in the grass.
I stand with empty hands.
The wind touches my skin.
It’s cold,
and it feels like air for the first time in years.
#poetry
It’s easier to be a statue
to keep the jaw set
the grievances polished
and the history carved in stone
where it can’t move
and can’t hurt me.
1/5
to keep the jaw set
the grievances polished
and the history carved in stone
where it can’t move
and can’t hurt me.
1/5
December 30, 2025 at 12:56 PM
It’s easier to be a statue
to keep the jaw set
the grievances polished
and the history carved in stone
where it can’t move
and can’t hurt me.
1/5
to keep the jaw set
the grievances polished
and the history carved in stone
where it can’t move
and can’t hurt me.
1/5
Well, I've gone from a two year creative drought to posting leadership lessons for work, poetry on here, and mapping out a novella in a folk horror vein.
December 30, 2025 at 12:00 PM
Well, I've gone from a two year creative drought to posting leadership lessons for work, poetry on here, and mapping out a novella in a folk horror vein.
Expanded poem:
The traffic murmurs outside,
a current of motion running through still air.
Somewhere a bus sighs as it slows,
a voice drifts apart
into distance, weather,
the click of doors closing.
1/3
The traffic murmurs outside,
a current of motion running through still air.
Somewhere a bus sighs as it slows,
a voice drifts apart
into distance, weather,
the click of doors closing.
1/3
December 30, 2025 at 11:44 AM
Expanded poem:
The traffic murmurs outside,
a current of motion running through still air.
Somewhere a bus sighs as it slows,
a voice drifts apart
into distance, weather,
the click of doors closing.
1/3
The traffic murmurs outside,
a current of motion running through still air.
Somewhere a bus sighs as it slows,
a voice drifts apart
into distance, weather,
the click of doors closing.
1/3
Traffic murmurs, a bus sighs, voices drift.
The dog leans into me. Morning asks for nothing more.
I do not move, I do not speak.
I just listen, until listening feels like living.
#poetry
The dog leans into me. Morning asks for nothing more.
I do not move, I do not speak.
I just listen, until listening feels like living.
#poetry
December 30, 2025 at 11:40 AM
Traffic murmurs, a bus sighs, voices drift.
The dog leans into me. Morning asks for nothing more.
I do not move, I do not speak.
I just listen, until listening feels like living.
#poetry
The dog leans into me. Morning asks for nothing more.
I do not move, I do not speak.
I just listen, until listening feels like living.
#poetry