fiction
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A Thaw is Coming: More from the Icicle Lounge this Spring
A Word from North ‘The wind was after rising something fierce that evening, howling across the valley like a creature that had lost its way. I stood by the hearth, watching the sparks fly up the chimney, and I thought to myself: No one should be out in that. I looked at the others—Frost with… Continue reading
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Divinity in Difference: The Window That Says What We’ve Been Trying to Say
Every now and then, an image comes along that says in colour and light what pages of writing have been circling for years. This stained-glass window feels like that. It gathers the heart of NeuroDivine—the essays, the fiction, the hymns, the poetry—and holds them up to the light with one steady claim: Difference is not… Continue reading
ActuallyAutistic, AuthenticSelf, Autism, AutisticFaith, BenedictineSpirituality, CelticChristianity, Christianity, ChristInTheEveryday, ChronicIllness, ChronicIllnessFaith, ContemplativePrayer, Faith, FaithInTheEveryday, FindingConnection, Hymnody, InclusiveChurch, IrishAnglicanVoice, IrishHymnody, IrishSpirituality, LiturgicalReflection, ModernMonasticism, MonasticWisdom, NeurodivergentFaith, NeuroDivine, PoetryOfPlace, QuietMoments, Routine, RuleOfStBenedict, SacredRoutine, SacredSpaces, Spirituality, SpiritualJourney -
The Icicle Lounge: Come in from the cold
Inspired by the Birth of The Icicle Lounge, a series of short stories is now taking shape. While each piece stands on its own, they are quietly connected by the Lounge itself — a shared setting where different lives unfold. I hope you enjoy this second story. The Icicle Lounge was not supposed to exist in… Continue reading
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The Icicle Lounge: The Night the Hand was Offered
Inspired by the Birth of The Icicle Lounge, a series of short stories is now taking shape. While each piece stands on its own, they are quietly connected by the Lounge itself — a shared setting where different lives unfold. I hope you enjoy this first story. The newcomer had walked past the frosted windows… Continue reading
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The Petals Beneath the Morning Light.
The first person to notice the flowers was Mrs Byrne. as she arrived early to light the candles before the eight o’clock Mass. The sun had only now begun to slip through the high windows, with long golden stripes lying across the tiled floor. There, caught in the light like a secret being revealed, lay… Continue reading
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