Fully vaccinated you say
Covid won’t come for you now.
But hey it still can and it did!
Grabbed my friend!
Took him to hospital.
Stuck him in a bed
Silenced and in dread
For he can’t breathe
Covid stole his oxygen
It ripped through his heart
Pumping it hard
Made it high alert and
Left him in the lurch
As Covid spindles about
Inside his skin,
Muscles and blood.
No way he can leave
Or walkout
Or go home
Because this virus
Has thrown him down
And scrabbled with his life
While his wife waits
In terror for better news
For her loving husband
To come home.
Will he survive it?
Will Covid leave him?
All we can do is hope…

I moved to Cyprus with my family in 2006. There was me, my husband and my two sons. We had a great life there at first but the hardship of earning decent money took a toll on us when Cyprus changed to the Euro from Cypriot pounds.

Things got expensive and the money we were earning wasn’t enough to keep us. So, my husband took two jobs. I worked for an excursion company and dealt with tourists who wanted to book them. We worked with Thomsons and Thomas Cook and other well-known travel firms. …

The small green patch of grass of my aunt and uncle’s London garden was set up for my cousin’s seventh birthday party in the summer of 1978. I was the only skinny girl there at twelve years old dressed in white Bay City Roller trousers and a silky white top but then the plump freckled neighbour came walking in wearing a red checked patterned dress acting like she owned the place. She plodded down onto the seat next to me with a wide grin on her face deliberately ignoring me. On this day an incident occurred that led me to…

The Lark shares fictional short stories and poetry.

Submissions are accepted from Medium members only who write short fictional stories and poetry.

Submission guidelines

Please read the Medium curation rules before submitting your short story or poem. Follow the Medium curation guidelines before you send your work here. Read the photo guidelines and the setting out guidelines there. You can use your own photos but if you do, make sure you state it’s your photo in the image caption underneath the photo. Use Unsplash when you need a photo by clicking the plus sign in the space and click on the ‘add…

A calming sensation in my shoulders from kneading the round dough was helping me to forget the dilemma I had with my husband. Stress baking was a kind of relaxation for me. Cooking cake after cake dripping in melted chocolate had become a meticulous hobby of mine but it also made me feel peaceful plus it had become a lifelong career. It cured me of my devastating mind as I sprinkled flour over the dough and continued to roll it. Then the doorbell chimed, making me jump. I rinsed the white powdery flakes from my hands under the cold running…

Hotspot Travellers shares travel stories and all things travel-related.

Submissions are accepted from Medium members only who write about travel.

Submission guidelines

Please read the Medium curation rules before submitting your story. Follow the Medium curation guidelines before you send your work here. Read the photo guidelines and the setting out guidelines there. You can use your own photos but if you do, make sure you state it’s your photo in the image caption underneath the photo. Use Unsplash when you need a photo by clicking the plus sign in the space and click on the ‘add an image from Unsplash’ search…

Lifestyle Today is starting to grow but we need more great writers! So, why not write something for a challenge and submit it to Lifestyle Today!

With the new Medium Writers Challenge contest for the month of August 2021, you can write something in Lifestyle Today about these subject matters Death (#MWC Death), Space (#MWC Space), Reentry (#MWC Reentry), and Work (#MWC Work). All you have to do is tag your story with the correct tags mentioned by 24th August 2021. This challenge is open to all Medium partnership program members. …

The living room shimmered and sprung in the night
The moonlight wallowed and willowed upon the Downy Birch tree
It seeped through a hollowed glass window
As darkness bathed upon the windowpane
Garden lights flooded bright.

Golden silky curtains closed
The room invisible from outside
Privacy ensued upon the orange soft chair
Where I sat and gazed at the green blarney stone’s glare.

A withered windy icy floating
Rummaged through my hair,
Rosary beads tumbled from my hand
Onto my grandmother’s land.

The night was young
The golden curtains swung
Someone infused within the silk
So fine and inline like spilled milk
It moved…