Flash Fiction | a little bird tweets

Apr 21 2025

DonnaDarkle, Flash Fiction, Original song, Poem, Poetry, Singer, Singing, Song

I wrote and sang my own song ‘Grace & Blaise’!

Hi everyone! I hope you are all doing well and are having a great 2025.

For many years now I have enjoyed writing poetry and flash fiction, as well as singing karaoke and making cover songs. So (drumroll please!), I have decided to turn these two interests into writing and performing my own original songs, under the artist name, ‘Donna Darkle’.

The song Grace & Blaise started out as a poem that I wrote in September 2024. It’s a love triangle, with two women obsessed with the same man. The man is an oil painter with a studio located near the cliffs. The women speak of their love of him in this dreamy sunset setting. Yet somehow there is this sense of sadness, a dark event that happened along the way, where the waves came crashing down. The ending? I will leave that up to you to decide, my dearest listeners…

And so, I turned my poem into a melody and sang the song, working with an audio mixer for the final production. You can hear the song below (takes you to my new YouTube channel ‘Donna Darkle’). Darkle means ‘becoming dark’ or ‘moving towards gloomy’ – a journey my writing never fails to take. Also, below I have posted the poem/lyrics (also available in the YouTube video description). I do hope you enjoy listening! If you are on YouTube, please feel free to like and subscribe. The channel is in its early days and I can do with some help to make it grow! Thank you 🙏 I will still be writing and posting here on alittlebirdtweets too! Catch you soon everyone. Much Love!

Grace & Blaise by Donna Darkle

Lyrics:

Mmm…

Dreams crash on the dark shore

I recall you here before

Oil sunsets bright bold

Brush strokes of champagne gold, well controlled

Paint spills on the tiled floor

Were you ever here before?

Blues, eyes blink, are on hold

Composition feels old, as we unfold

And Blaise was crazy over you

Septembers’ moon, great timelapse view

She was idolizing you

Craved the gold, got ultra marine blue

Mmm…

Paints crash on the dark shore

I recall you here before

Oil sunsets bright bold

Brush strokes of champagne gold, well controlled

Paint spills on the tiled floor

Were you ever here before?

Blues, eyes blink, are on hold

Composition feels old, as we unfold

And Grace was crazy over you

Septembers’ moon, great timelapse view

She was idolizing you

Craved the gold, got ultra marine blue

Dreams crash on the dark shore

I recall you here before

Oil sunsets bright bold

Brush strokes of champagne gold, well controlled

Paint spills on the dark floor

Were you ever here before?

Blues, eyes blink, are on hold

Composition feels old

They are crazy over you

Septembers’ moon, great timelapse view

They are idolizing you

Craved the gold, got ultra marine blue

And they sang…

Gold should shower over me

Blue moon fades away in dreams

Like the stirring apple sea

Can I be your muse for free?

In your dreams

They are crazy over you

Septembers’ moon, great timelapse view

They are idolizing you

Craved the gold, got ultra marine blue.

🩶

©DonnaDarkle

#donnadarkle #donnadarklemusic

Tagged Lyrics, Music, Poems, Poetry, Song, songwriting

Aug 20 2024

2 Comments

Creative Writing, Flash Fiction, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller

Blank Canvas

‘What do you see in this painting, Wassily?’, asked Pablo.

“I see circles, squares, and a hidden horse that rotates to music against a white dreamy backdrop. I see arcs in an array of colours. I see whimsical.’

‘How about you Pablo? What do you see?’, asked Wassily.

‘Well I see something disturbing. I see darkness. Grey and muddy clouds in a tousled, thundery landscape. I see turmoil in the brushstrokes, people isolated and trapped in voids. I see darkness. Only darkness.’

After they had both analysed the painting, they then read the description box mounted beside it. The ‘analyse then read’ practice was something they had undertaken for years with countless paintings. It had helped them train their artistics eyes, and it had also helped to deepen their friendship.

The painting was titled ‘Blank Canvas’, by an artist called Tracey Edwards. ‘I left the canvas blank deliberately. I created this ‘mind game’. The viewer is completely unaware that the canvas is blank. Upon viewing the canvas, the viewer unknowingly paints their visions with their own eyes on that very white space. As an artist, I have always been fascinated by art and psychology and the combination of the two is mindblowing. Ultimately, the viewer will end up creating a painting that reflects their mind, soul and bodies. It’s a painting that teaches us about ourselves and others, should we wish to share.

A sci-fi-ish story about two of my favourite artists, Wassily Kandinsky and Pablo Picasso. Their descriptions of the painting mirror their own works. Their state of minds are entirely fictional.

Tagged Flash, Flash fiction, Science Fiction, Short Stories, Short Story

Aug 09 2022

2 Comments

Flash Fiction, Poetry

Near to You

I’m getting sentimental over you under Paris skies under this blanket of blue where the blossom falls upon the sun valley moon

I’m gonna paper my walls with your love letters with my eyes bright open while the autumn leaves twist like butterflies over cherry wine singing to Sinatra

Tagged Fiction, Flash fiction, Poetry, poetryflash, Short Story

Apr 03 2016

44 Comments

Flash Fiction

Prism Dreams

I long to roll down the river called Prism Dreams; to feel the night sky percolate the open pores of my skin. But I heard that the riverboat overturned last winter; had kicked all of the stars out of kilter, had halted the flicker of dragonfly wings under a wearisome moon. I heard that life had become receptive to the fear that had flourished in the eyes of the submerged.

@alittlebirdtweets2016

Tagged Creative Writing, Dragonfly, Dreams, Eyes, Fiction, Flash fiction, Life, Moon, Night, Poetry, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, River, Short Story, Stars, Up to 100 Words, Writing

Nov 19 2015

66 Comments

Flash Fiction, Home

Torn

The roses in the garden were wilting, as though they were nodding their approval of your ignorance towards me. So I tugged them from the earth, removed their mocking heads, and threw them into the sad September breeze. The stalks they cried. The thorns they hailed. And the embers of petals floated back to me, and melded to my sweating body like greedy leeches. The embers still remain there, burning into my soul, like a wild and sorry tattoo.

@alittlebirdtweets2015

Tagged Creative Writing, Earth, fear, Fiction, Flash fiction, Garden, Leeches, Love, Obsession, Petals, Psychological-thriller, Roses, Short Story, Tattoo, Thorns, Torn, Up to 100 Words, Writing

Sep 28 2015

45 Comments

Flash Fiction, Home

Blink

A medley of Bach was the only thing that could silence her mind, in this racing city. She pressed the volume up on her Ipod. The iconic chords managed to dumb-out the sound of her heavy stilettos upon the pavement; a sound that seemed to mimic the screech of a pneumatic drill in concrete. She longed to hear the pigeons coo; but even they failed to take a breath amongst the madness. They bobbed past her feet aimlessly, in their search for mangled morsels. She watched one blink, and she winked right back.

@alittlebirdtweets2015

Tagged Bach, Blink, Concrete, Creative Writing, Flash fiction, Life, Noise, Pigeon, Short Story, Street, Up to 100 Words, Wink, Writing

Feb 11 2015

93 Comments

Flash Fiction, Home

Rootless

She had woken in a loveless society that admired nothing more than its own reflection. She had commuted dank streets for years, with her coat collar tucked protectively in the crook of her neck; masking the putrid breaths of strangers, their voices ripe with pessimism. She had died savagely at the hands of stony scavengers, in their quest for food. But, she had drawn her last breath with a smile; having observed a set of doors that had opened into a new and fragrant society.

April finished reading the last paragraph of her manuscript, placed it on the kitchen table, and looked at her Mother, who was standing at the kitchen sink, daydreaming into the garden.

“What do you think, Mother?” She asked, rotating her thumbs in her sweaty clasped hands.

Her Mother turned to face her. “I’m left wondering what the new and fragrant society was like.”

April grabbed a pen. “Then I shall write on, for you, Mother.” She spoke the words of her story as she wrote; her fingers dancing eloquently across the page.

She had woken in glorious sunlight with a diamante heart encrusted on her brow. A stranger had greeted her with open hands; had given her his maps, his compass, his lifelong supply of food, his honest smile. And on her journey of life, she had looked to the psychedelic colours of the skies; had glimpsed the wings of eternity. And all the while, she had smiled, loved, and had thanked the universe.

@alittlebirdtweets2015

Tagged 250 Words, Creative Writing, Fiction, Flash fiction, Garden, Life, Mother, Pen, Prose, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Rootless, Society, Stranger, Sunlight, Universe, Wings

Sep 25 2014

Rootless

Hello Readers,

This month I was given the wonderful opportunity to write an exclusive flash fiction called ‘Rootless’, for Paula Lawes, who owns and runs an online magazine called ‘Tips for Growers’ at thedailygrow.com.

The theme of the magazine this month, and the theme with which I had to create a story, was ‘Love Yourself First’. This proved to be both exciting and challenging, and it certainly brought me out of my comfort zone of the thriller and horror genres, in which I write.

“Rootless leads us on a light and dark thematic journey. It highlights how, if we open our eyes and use our minds, we can transform ourselves and the world around us.”

To buy a copy of Paula’s 46 page magazine, please visit thedailygrow.com. The magazine not only contains my exclusive flash fiction ‘Rootless’, but it also contains some inspiring articles by guest bloggers, original photos and inspirational quotes.

Thank you!

Tagged 250 Words, Flash fiction, Love yourself first, Magazine, Paula Lawes, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Rootless, Short Story, The Daily Grow, Tips for Growers, Transformation

May 20 2014

28 Comments

Flash Fiction

Life

Ernest Burroughs pulled the well-thumbed life manual close to his face. His cataract eyes failed him; so he sniffed out the written words with his white-haired nostrils. The words travelled his nasal paths to his brain; where he chewed on them vigorously, squeezing them of their collective meaning. Billions of random words danced atop his eyeballs like small dazzling clouds, when his chest tightened. And before he could impart the revealed recipe of immortality to mankind, a force pulled him through a white tunnel.

Tagged Brain, Calculation, Cataract, Chest, Clouds, Creative Writing, Elderly, Eyes, Face, Fiction, Flash fiction, Formula, Immortal, Immortality, Life, Mankind, Manual, Nose, Nostrils, old-age, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Recipe, Revealed, Science, Science Fiction, Tunnel, Up to 100 Words, Words, Writing

Apr 09 2014

6 Comments

Flash Fiction

The Forage

An apricot sunrise seethed through the misty moors. She wandered grasslands; pulled lady’s smock by their roots, by the heaps. Her necklet loosened; it fell, unbeknownst to her.

In the sky, Parakeets danced; they sang an ancient proverb. Thou shalt not steal from nature in abundance; for nature shalt steal from thou.

Her heart repented.

Tagged 100 Words, Ancient, Apricot, Creative Writing, Dance, Fiction, Flash fiction, Forage, Foraging, Grassland, Lady's Smock, Mist, Moors, Nature, Necklet, Parakeet, Short Story, Sky, Steal, Sunrise, Writing

Mar 17 2014

9 Comments

Flash Fiction

Popworld

Glitterball

Midnight, beats pumping, last orders. She watches him; he winks. She smears gloss to hungry lips. Gloss, she thought, it always mesmerizes him.

Morning after; their heads throb, and he induces rejection, mascara tears. Passing her tongue over furred teeth, she walks home with regret. Love, she thought, is more appetising beneath the glitter ball.

Tagged 100 Words, Club, Creative Writing, Fiction, Flash fiction, Glitterball, Home, Lipgloss, Love, Mascara, Midnight, Music, NewMenu1, Obsession, Popworld, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Rejection, Tears, Tongue, Walk

Feb 23 2014

19 Comments

Flash Fiction

27

His big mouth strikes the revellers. His pining voice turns their body hair to live wire; their minds into psychedelic ecstasy. He leaves the pub at the last beat of the drum. He lights a fag, walks past the Hawley, and dreams of wild days in tomorrow’s world of sobriety.

Tagged 27, 50 Words, Amy Winehouse, Camden, Drum, Gig, Guitar, Hawley Arms, Lock, Music, Psychedelic, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Pub, Revellers, Voice

Feb 13 2014

20 Comments

Flash Fiction

Clown

I had been drawn into a dark circus of a world; a world where high-wired voices had giggled so delicately, over nothing.

This is the spirit of the circus, they had voiced with curled lips, and it’s about laughing over fake flowers, to entertain the curious.

Summers had slipped, and my laughs had burned out like old rings of fire. The mouths of jugglers had wheezed at my woeful face.

A circus is no place for a sad heart, they’d chorused.

Tagged Circus, Clown, Creative Writing, Entertain, Face, Fake, Fiction, Fire, Flash fiction, flowers, Giggled, Heart, Jugglers, Laughing, lips, NewMenu1, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Sad, Voices, World

Jan 18 2014

3 Comments

Flash Fiction

Faded

(Piano Instrumental ‘Dream of Flying’ by Brian Crane plays)

I had watched her lips dance upon the rim of her teacup; her bitter breath had fused with steam, had formed fumes of rejection.

“Just leave it Frank!”

I had posed her a floret of my affection, worlds of pipe dreams; but to her it had meant disintegration in love.

(Piano Instrumental ‘Dream of Flying’ by Brian Crane fades to silence)

Tagged 1950's, Affection, Breath, Creative Writing, Dance, Dreams, Dreams of Flying, Fiction, Flash fiction, Fumes, Instrumental, lips, Love, Piano, Piano Instrumental, Pipe Dreams, Play, Psychological-horror, Psychological-thriller, Rejection, Script, Script-writing, Short Story, Steam, Teacup, Under 100 Words

Nov 29 2013

9 Comments

Flash Fiction

Scarlett

rose

She handpicked the last rose of summer; watched the petals wilt into a ballet of depression. The ghost of his apology of deceit had bred in her mind for days. She knew that walking unafraid in a world devoid of him could never equal the burning desire of a restored heart. She crushed the rose in her hand. Someday she would visit his office and attempt to rekindle the love of her lover; a man whom she would always believe to be a raw diamond in the earth.