aislingcronin

When I think of the old tree at the end of your garden, I see the gnarled log beside it (on which we would hop and jump – who’s the leader, you’re it, I got you, that’s the rule) I see the swings dangling

When one sees a fantastic cat, the only appropriate response is to pay tribute to them! This is my most recent piece of digital art (proudly home-spun and AI free) — inspired by a gloriously fluffy fellow.

It didn't take as long to pack up as I thought it would. After all the fights, the headaches, the endless back and forth over who was right or wrong... it's proven surprisingly easy to pack up a life.

‘Emma?’ Sarah appears around the side of the fruit and vegetable aisle. ‘Hm?’ ‘Are we ever going to talk about the fact that Derek Fitzmaurice keeps coming in here looking for you?’ Emma glances towards

I hoped, when the message first came through on my phone, that it wasn’t true. Surely it would turn out to have been a wild rumour – some bizarre notion that had taken hold in some obscure corner of the

There was something so innocent about them: those adorable robotic animals (Poo-Chis, Meow Chis, Furbies, to name a few) that dominated my childhood. As basic and limited as their sounds, expressions and

If I were able to take your hands – hoping they would not, any longer, be snatched away – and press them to my cheek, as you always did when you had strength to lift them yourself, I would take time to

Inspired by the freewrite prompt don't shake it. The little story that unfolded in my head today, as I began to respond to the prompt, reminded me of the Don and Amanda tale of a few months ago, so I decided

I’m not in the habit of writing as ‘myself’, so to speak, as I prefer not to put too much of my personal life, thoughts or opinions into a place as volatile as the internet. I was once more open in that

A response to the freewrite prompt standing naked in the arena, and a continuation of my Ballroom Project! The zenith of the full moon is here at last. Everyone will be expecting her to step out of the

A response to the freewrite prompt not a boy, and a continuation of my Ballroom Project! Would Alila's life have been different had she had been born a boy? She knows that her older brother Orvec is held

A continuation of my ongoing Ballroom Project series, a work in progress. The wedding will be over by now; the festivities brought to a raucous end; debris strewn across the palatial halls of Albalia's

On the day of your funeral, all I could think about was how rarely I had ever seen your eyes closed before. We lined up near your coffin, ready to stand and smile and shake hands with the visitors who

The heart is a multi-layered thing: forever resilient, inherently vulnerable; alight with hope, weighed down by the shadows of the world – this reflection came to mind as I sketched out the artwork above.

Marissa hears the thumping music before she opens the door, and is taken by surprise. Another party? Shouldn’t Tasha have left already? As soon as she steps in the door, her cousin runs out of the kitchen.

Marissa is in despair before they’ve even left the first changing room. “Hey, Mariss, try this…” Her cousin Tasha throws yet another dress into the cubicle, and Marissa feels her heart sinking as she looks

Remember how they walked here, once – their presence as vivid as yours or mine – fodder for their leaders’ spoils, for the glory of the nation, for the war that would end wars. Wikimedia Commons There

Another instalment of The Ballroom Project!

A continuation of The Ballroom Project, a story I’ve been working on for a while. Folastar is the third protagonist of the tale, his story beginning after Guenneth’s and Alilah’s. Folastar smiles as he

I felt it for so long. The burden of expectation. I was to uphold the family legacy, restore their good name. I’m sorry, mother. You know I was never as strong as my sister. Now I drift through the halls