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Brandy O’Briant

@brandyo71.bsky.social

2.6K followers 5.4K following 768 posts

54. American in England. Beagle mom. Writer. Literary fiction. MFA. INFJ. Shortlist, The Virginia Prize for Fiction Finalist, Wildhouse Fiction Prize Longlist, Mslexia Novel Award Honourable Mention, Craft Literary 1st Chapters brandyobriant.com

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Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 20/07/2026

#arvonwritingchallenge #day1 Fun! Potentially a new bit for my #wip Thanks @writerclaurefuller and @arvonfoundation.bsky.social #amwriting #writersofbluesky #writesky

Image of a laptop computer with the screen set to random.org with a copy of Hillary Mantel‘s Wolf Hall sitting next to it on the cover of the book is an image of King Henry the eighth

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 03/07/2026

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 03/07/2026

#wipsnips #writersofbluesky #writesky #amwriting #amyrobsart #histfic #litfic

‘Tis true was no fine day for the Abingdon fair, but I insisted they attend regardless. The men and women of the household did not take joy on being instructed to don their leaky boots and rough wool cloaks only to get them soaked and sodden in the drizzle, which was hinting at proper rain, to attend a fair they would not appreciate and could ill afford. I bore no refusal and told them all to go forth; nay, insisted, requiring them out of the house with an urgency even I did not entirely comprehend. I handed them coin for the excursion, which eased their grievances somewhat. Out, out, I wanted them out. Pinto stared at me; the maid’s expression blank but the dark eyes knowing. Pinto knows me best in life, save Robert. Though now, he seems not to know me at all. Or to care to. Her probing stare affected me not. Pinto would go with the rest, however unwillingly. I understood her concern. I knew she watched me in the chapel yesterday. I knew what she heard me ask of God: for deliverance from this pain in which I lived. This malady in my breast. I knew her worries.

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

Tina Baker @tinabakerbooks.bsky.social · 30/06/2026

TFW you’ve written one good sentence. Might delete later. @weratedogs.com

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 07/06/2026

Portrait of a Beagle Who Desires a Chicken and Leek Pie.

Image of a beagle, looking up at a kitchen island that has a pie sitting on top of it

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 03/06/2026

And how exactly am I supposed to get any writing done now that this has arrived? Let inspiration commence. Locking myself away to enter @maggieofarrellofficial world @tinder_press #booksky #amreading

Colorful cover of a hard back book by Maggie O’Farrell called land sitting on top of a manuscript I’ve been working on

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 02/06/2026

Where do you write? A room of one’s own. #amthinking #amplotting #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #writingspaces

A very messy room with a gallery wall and a white desk in a black chair and lots and lots of books stacked on it with a candle burning

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 02/06/2026

Book stack for the current project. #amyrobsart #tudors #amthinking #amplotting #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #wip

A stack of books about tutor, England, Elizabeth the first women’s lives in the tutor error the tutor in love, tutor, England, history, sweet Robin, Walter, Scott’s Kenilworth and historical description and account of commonplace

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 01/06/2026

Books that made me happy this May. Lots of inspiration here. Have you read any of these? #booksky #writersofbluesky #amreading #amwriting

Stack a variety of hardback and paperback books

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

Covie @covie93.bsky.social · 31/05/2026

Who did this????😂😂😂😂😂😂

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 31/05/2026

Hot take: As I’m starting to earn some recognition for my work by submitting to competitions, I believe that this might be way more effective (for me, anyway) than #querying. At least when you submit, you know SOMEONE will read it and it won’t sit at the bottom of a slush pile for months. Thoughts?

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 31/05/2026

Been holding back this one for a while, but now I can share that my novel The Kite has been longlisted for the Mslexia Novel Competition! So honoured and thrilled. And inspired to keep going. #amwriting #amquerying #litfic #booksky #writersofbluesky #writesky @mslexia.bsky.social

It’s an email that says dyslexia novel competition long list from submissions dear Brandy this is to let you know that your novel the kite has been long listed in our 2025 novel competition. Congratulations.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 30/05/2026

Sometimes as a writer you read a book that just makes you want to give up. Because you know you will never write anything that beautiful or smart. Thank you for your gorgeous prose #elifshafak #booksky #writersofbluesky #litfic

Book cover of there are rivers in the sky by El Shafak, a blue and white cover with a blue raindrop and a penguin symbol in the upper corner

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 23/05/2026

So this happened…AGAIN! My novel about #sirthomasbrowne has made it to the SHORTLIST for the Virginia Prize for Fiction from @aurorametro.bsky.social ! Fingers crossed for final outcome! Send good vibes! #writersofbluesky #amwriting #booksky #litfic #histfic

A graphic with a picture of Virginia Wolf, that says the Virginia Wolf prize for fiction

A graphic with blue roses that says we are excited to announce the Virginia prize for fiction short

A graphic that lists the shortlist winners for always only by Emily Bullock of cities by Sangeeta Malay, no Greta in nature by Brandy O’Briant, and the sky that we look upon by Jay Shreve Lee

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 21/05/2026

#amediting #idealsetup #writersofbluesky #booksky

Photo of a table at a café with a cup of tea a small bottle of milk, a sugar bowl, a big, thick manuscript, and a canvas tote bag

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

Rae Radford @raeradford.bsky.social · 20/05/2026

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

Nan ☮️ @naninaz76.bsky.social · 18/05/2026

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 19/05/2026

So excited that my novel reimagining the life of #sirthomasbrowne has been shortlisted for the Virginia Prize for Fiction! Thank you @aurorametro.bsky.social for loving Thomas as much as I do!

Picture of an email that says hi Brandy I haven’t speedier update than expected. I am delighted to let you know. No grotesque in nature has been selected for the Virginia price shortlist thank you for submitting your manuscript to our prize and it says shortlisted above it in red with! And at Aurora Metro

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 19/05/2026

#misterbingley is really into #sirwalterscott #amwriting #amyrobsart #kenilworth

Picture of a beagle with his head inside a book titled kennel worth by Sir Walter Scott

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 13/05/2026

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writing #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #authorsofbluesky #amwriting #litfic #histfic

Mother scowled at me and I looked down to the pewter plate with a leg of capon and some boiled potatoes on it, jelly formed around the joint of the animal as it had cooled hours ago. I picked at it and felt his presence, heard his words. I needn’t actually look at him, for I felt his presence all around. The people and furniture in the room shrank in relief to him. My body became warm and the tops of my ears turned pink and hot. I reached up to touch my flushed chest, tucking the tips of my fingers into the neckline of my dress. Mother shot me an exasperated look. I knew I should not cross her, but a part of me felt a prick of satisfaction at her annoyance. She did not know. She did not know what was happening here. She does not see that God plays his hand, that only He would contrive this battle to bring Robert Dudley to my door. This is all God’s plan.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 11/05/2026

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writing #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #authorsofbluesky #amediting #litfic

8 September 1560
Death is nothing at all. When it finally took its position next to me at the top of the timber stairs, it disquieted me none. I expected a chill to emanate from its presence, but no. Rather an almost human warmth stood beside me, as if any other mortal. No harbingers arrived to mark the moment. No robins in the household or shoes upon the table. No ghoulish intimate breath on the nape of my neck, making the shy hairs stand on end. On the contrary, all felt tranquil and peaceable in Cumnor Place. Finally. A smoky greenish light from a wan September Sunday shone through the casement window onto the flagstone floor eight steps below; the mullions creating a lattice-work pattern on the exact spot where I took my terminal breath, the white handkerchief sleeping gown and rose velvet cape circling my still warm body in a serene and savage tableau. One might have mistaken me for sleeping.

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

Dr. Mar @boldnewme.bsky.social · 06/05/2026

🎯

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

Brant Reeves @bireeves95.bsky.social · 07/05/2026

I Fully Endorse this Idea….

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 04/05/2026

My favorite flower.

Large bouquet of pink peonies

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 02/05/2026

This. www.theguardian.com/world/2026/m...

theguardian.com

Hope out of chaos: how the dark era of Trump is creating a new approach to global politics

There is cautious optimism that ‘a majority of multilateralists’ may be able to enduringly reshape global alliances

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 02/05/2026

So this happened… Thanks @aurorametro.bsky.social #sirthomasbrowne

We are excited to announce the Virginia prize for fiction long list.

My book No grotesques in nature by Brandy O’Brien was one of the eight on the long list

Image of Virginia Wolf, with an overlay the Virginia price for fiction

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

George Conway ⚖️🇺🇸 @gtconway.bsky.social · 15/02/2026

I think we are going to have a Democratic-controlled Senate. And all we will need for the leadership of that Democratic Senate to do is hold actual, real, impeachment trials. As the Constitution requires. Not the bullshit fake trials like the ones that the Senate held in 2020 and 2021...

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 28/11/2025

This.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 28/11/2025

Happy thanksgiving from Mister Bingley! #beaglesofbluesky

Cute beagle eying a big stuffed turkey

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

Traci @tabtraci.bsky.social · 21/11/2025

I have never needed Friday more. TGIF, #5amwritersclub! ✍️📚 Let’s end the week with a few more chapters behind us. 🎉 #WritingCommunity

media.tenor.com

a cartoon of snoopy holding a piece of paper

Alt: a cartoon of snoopy holding a piece of paper and typing on top of his doghouse

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 21/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writing #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #authorsofbluesky #amediting #litfic

Why did she think for a moment that she could come and have a solitary stroll with Bingley, a bit of time for reflection and grief? Now she stood before her worst nightmare: a group of people who want to express sympathy to her. Dozens of eyes turn to her as Iris walks her towards the makeshift memorial. What is it about the look of sympathy? The intensity of the kindness, the soothing tone, the soft closeness? The physicality of emotional proximity, the hand on the arm or the back, the performative attempt at a lack of judgment. But judgment is what Helen feels emanating off the people who turn from the pile of offerings to her. She wants to hide, to flee the feeling of nakedness that has overcome her. She should have curled up on the sofa and slept the day away with her dog. She should have walked in the other direction. Iris gently squeezes her arm. You can do it, she whispers to Helen. Once you’ve faced it, it will get easier.
Will it? Helen asks the woman, hoping for some sliver of wisdom.
Iris shrugs. Maybe. What the fuck do I know?

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 21/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writing #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #authorsofbluesky #amediting #litfic

Why did she think for a moment that she could come and have a solitary stroll with Bingley, a bit of time for reflection and grief? Now she stood before her worst nightmare: a group of people who want to express sympathy to her. Dozens of eyes turn to her as Iris walks her towards the makeshift memorial. What is it about the look of sympathy? The intensity of the kindness, the soothing tone, the soft closeness? The physicality of emotional proximity, the hand on the arm or the back, the performative attempt at a lack of judgment. But judgment is what Helen feels emanating off the people who turn from the pile of offerings to her. She wants to hide, to flee the feeling of nakedness that has overcome her. She should have curled up on the sofa and slept the day away with her dog. She should have walked in the other direction. Iris gently squeezes her arm. You can do it, she whispers to Helen. Once you’ve faced it, it will get easier.
Will it? Helen asks the woman, hoping for some sliver of wisdom.
Iris shrugs. Maybe. What the fuck do I know?

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 20/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

There’s something else, Rosie says to her. I’m not sure how to say this, because I do understand your feelings about the bench. And I know you are protecting the family and, she pauses, perhaps yourself. No one wants to be constantly reminded of a tragedy like this. I get it. It’s just that something like this bench isn’t just for the Davies family, or for you. It’s for the community. When something like this happens, it doesn’t just happen to one. It happens to all. Everyone sees themselves in the family; they see their child. There needs to be an outlet for those feelings to emerge as a group. We all belong to each other. That’s what makes it so special on the hill.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 20/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

There’s something else, Rosie says to her. I’m not sure how to say this, because I do understand your feelings about the bench. And I know you are protecting the family and, she pauses, perhaps yourself. No one wants to be constantly reminded of a tragedy like this. I get it. It’s just that something like this bench isn’t just for the Davies family, or for you. It’s for the community. When something like this happens, it doesn’t just happen to one. It happens to all. Everyone sees themselves in the family; they see their child. There needs to be an outlet for those feelings to emerge as a group. We all belong to each other. That’s what makes it so special on the hill.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 19/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #authorsofbluesky #amediting #litfic

George pulls up in front of Helen’s house and beeps. She gives Bingley a shinbone filled with peanut butter and heads out to find his big black van when she was expecting Patrick’s little VW Golf. She pulls open the door to see Patrick in the second row and Brian and Claudia in the third.
Helen gives Claudia a smile, surprised and glad to see her and Brian are joining, and receives what feels like a curt grin. An atmosphere pervades the vehicle, and she looks at Rosie who gives a brief eyeroll. All are dressed appropriately in dark colours, and the air feels equally sombre. She sits next to Patrick and puts on her seatbelt. He kisses her cheek and asks how she is.
As good as one can be, I suppose, she answers.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 19/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #authorsofbluesky #amediting #litfic

George pulls up in front of Helen’s house and beeps. She gives Bingley a shinbone filled with peanut butter and heads out to find his big black van when she was expecting Patrick’s little VW Golf. She pulls open the door to see Patrick in the second row and Brian and Claudia in the third.
Helen gives Claudia a smile, surprised and glad to see her and Brian are joining, and receives what feels like a curt grin. An atmosphere pervades the vehicle, and she looks at Rosie who gives a brief eyeroll. All are dressed appropriately in dark colours, and the air feels equally sombre. She sits next to Patrick and puts on her seatbelt. He kisses her cheek and asks how she is.
As good as one can be, I suppose, she answers.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 17/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #authorsofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Elisabeth sinks down further into the armchair than before, settling in. Helen does the same, as if opening up more room for this exchange, giving it breadth and reverence, staying completely aware that this woman just did the unimaginable, made funeral preparations for her child. Made the decision to burn her child’s body. Helen believes in cremation, believes in natural burials. She finds the thoughts of spending outrageous amounts of money on preserving a dead body with chemicals and ornate boxes nauseating. But still. She could not imagine making the choice to set a child’s corpse on fire. The finality of it. As if death weren’t final enough.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 17/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #authorsofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Elisabeth sinks down further into the armchair than before, settling in. Helen does the same, as if opening up more room for this exchange, giving it breadth and reverence, staying completely aware that this woman just did the unimaginable, made funeral preparations for her child. Made the decision to burn her child’s body. Helen believes in cremation, believes in natural burials. She finds the thoughts of spending outrageous amounts of money on preserving a dead body with chemicals and ornate boxes nauseating. But still. She could not imagine making the choice to set a child’s corpse on fire. The finality of it. As if death weren’t final enough.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 15/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #authorsofbluesky #amediting #litfic

Now that she has all these mature traits she coveted, Helen wishes she could stop the clock or slow it a bit. It’s not that she wishes to be younger; just that she failed to anticipate the speed at which the process progressed. She feels almost out of her body with this new clarity of death. A close sibling to the appreciation of life. Never one to shirk the idea of it, and something she encountered head on, especially given the sudden loss of her husband. But this feels different. This vision of herself in the mirror with the absolutely certainty she will die. Maybe not for a long while. Maybe tomorrow. She thinks to the Buddhist practice of contemplating death, maransati, a word she pulls from forty-year-old file in her brain, a word she wrote on a notecard at university, studying for a Sanskrit test. Her taking a Sanskrit class drove her father absolutely mental. Sanskrit! he would say, I want Sanskrit written on my tombstone because I will never believe it. At twenty, she found the thought of fixating on one’s own passing to be macabre. Envisioning of the decay of flesh, the disintegration of the matter that made one physical, real, material. This seems like yesterday to her. And yet. The grey hairs sprout one at a time so slowly that one hardly notices. The breasts that once defied gravity succumb to it centimetre by centimetre. She cups both her breasts and lifts them. They float like this in the water. She releases them again and even in a bra, she feels the pull of them downward. And she never ever goes anywhere without a good pair of tweezers anymore. The hairs sprouting from her grandmother’s chin, especially a long black one from a faint mole right in the centre, would make her wonder at how someone could let themselves go so much as to not notice a wiry hair like that poking out from one’s face? She has more understanding now as she has to put on her reading glasses and stand close to a bright window to identify and extract the ones she feels with her ha…

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 15/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #authorsofbluesky #amediting #litfic

Now that she has all these mature traits she coveted, Helen wishes she could stop the clock or slow it a bit. It’s not that she wishes to be younger; just that she failed to anticipate the speed at which the process progressed. She feels almost out of her body with this new clarity of death. A close sibling to the appreciation of life. Never one to shirk the idea of it, and something she encountered head on, especially given the sudden loss of her husband. But this feels different. This vision of herself in the mirror with the absolutely certainty she will die. Maybe not for a long while. Maybe tomorrow. She thinks to the Buddhist practice of contemplating death, maransati, a word she pulls from forty-year-old file in her brain, a word she wrote on a notecard at university, studying for a Sanskrit test. Her taking a Sanskrit class drove her father absolutely mental. Sanskrit! he would say, I want Sanskrit written on my tombstone because I will never believe it. At twenty, she found the thought of fixating on one’s own passing to be macabre. Envisioning of the decay of flesh, the disintegration of the matter that made one physical, real, material. This seems like yesterday to her. And yet. The grey hairs sprout one at a time so slowly that one hardly notices. The breasts that once defied gravity succumb to it centimetre by centimetre. She cups both her breasts and lifts them. They float like this in the water. She releases them again and even in a bra, she feels the pull of them downward. And she never ever goes anywhere without a good pair of tweezers anymore. The hairs sprouting from her grandmother’s chin, especially a long black one from a faint mole right in the centre, would make her wonder at how someone could let themselves go so much as to not notice a wiry hair like that poking out from one’s face? She has more understanding now as she has to put on her reading glasses and stand close to a bright window to identify and extract the ones she feels with her ha…

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 14/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Helen, too deep in her own merriment to answer, just nods. And Chris looks at her stunned for a moment. She knows it’s wrong. She cannot help herself. She knows she is behaving horribly. Committing a sacrilege. Mirth in this moment? He squeezes her hand and chuckles softly, at first out of vague politeness or perhaps embarrassment for this mad woman. Then Helen, laughing so hard, farts loudly. Chris guffaws at the sound and then laughs out loud, harder and harder, until they are both doubled over, unable to catch their breath. There they are holding hands, lying on their sides now, and laughing like madmen on the West Hill, right on the spot where his daughter died a week ago.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 14/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Helen, too deep in her own merriment to answer, just nods. And Chris looks at her stunned for a moment. She knows it’s wrong. She cannot help herself. She knows she is behaving horribly. Committing a sacrilege. Mirth in this moment? He squeezes her hand and chuckles softly, at first out of vague politeness or perhaps embarrassment for this mad woman. Then Helen, laughing so hard, farts loudly. Chris guffaws at the sound and then laughs out loud, harder and harder, until they are both doubled over, unable to catch their breath. There they are holding hands, lying on their sides now, and laughing like madmen on the West Hill, right on the spot where his daughter died a week ago.

Reposted by Brandy O’Briant

Aaron Rupar @atrupar.com · 12/11/2025

AOC: "It is unconscionable that what we are debating right now is legislation that will give 8 senators over $1 million a piece & we're robbing people of their food assistance & healthcare to pay for it. How can we vote to enrich ourselves by stealing from the American people?"

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 13/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Rowan has gone to the basket of toys from Rosie. He pulls out Legos of all shapes and sizes and colours and sets to building. Helen likes this. Charlie never followed the instructions on the fancy Lego sets his grandmother bought him for Christmas and birthdays, which infuriated her when she had come to visit from the States. He would open the bags with that particular crinkly Lego-bag sound, dump them all together on the floor and create something entirely new. Her mother would look at Helen and say, I spent all that money when I could have just bought him the cheap bag of random ones. Helen would just respond, yes probably. And like clockwork, every year she experienced the howling agony of stepping on one of those plastic bricks with her bare feet.
Once dressed, Helen sits down on the floor with Rowan and silently watches him build. Every once in a while, she will choose and offer up a certain block which he will either take without noticing it came from her or reject with a dismissive quick headshake. After about an hour, he stops and stands up, walking around the structure, examining it. To Helen, it looks like stacks of white and black and brown blocks, concentrated in certain smaller mounds. There is a red line on top of one of the round rises. Bingley, lying on the floor near them, lifts an eye and close it just as quickly.
Rowan looks at Helen. What do you think? ard. It doesn’t lie flat like I wanted it to.
Bingley. Of course. Now she has something to work with.
Oh, I think you did a great job capturing his colours with the white and black and brown. And the red is obviously his collar. Well done!
Rowan beams at her and picks up the Lego dog. He sets it gently on the coffee table and turns it towards where the dog sleeps.
Now Bingley can see himself, he tells Helen. And Helen knows that this will have a place in her home always.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 13/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Rowan has gone to the basket of toys from Rosie. He pulls out Legos of all shapes and sizes and colours and sets to building. Helen likes this. Charlie never followed the instructions on the fancy Lego sets his grandmother bought him for Christmas and birthdays, which infuriated her when she had come to visit from the States. He would open the bags with that particular crinkly Lego-bag sound, dump them all together on the floor and create something entirely new. Her mother would look at Helen and say, I spent all that money when I could have just bought him the cheap bag of random ones. Helen would just respond, yes probably. And like clockwork, every year she experienced the howling agony of stepping on one of those plastic bricks with her bare feet.
Once dressed, Helen sits down on the floor with Rowan and silently watches him build. Every once in a while, she will choose and offer up a certain block which he will either take without noticing it came from her or reject with a dismissive quick headshake. After about an hour, he stops and stands up, walking around the structure, examining it. To Helen, it looks like stacks of white and black and brown blocks, concentrated in certain smaller mounds. There is a red line on top of one of the round rises. Bingley, lying on the floor near them, lifts an eye and close it just as quickly.
Rowan looks at Helen. What do you think? ard. It doesn’t lie flat like I wanted it to.
Bingley. Of course. Now she has something to work with.
Oh, I think you did a great job capturing his colours with the white and black and brown. And the red is obviously his collar. Well done!
Rowan beams at her and picks up the Lego dog. He sets it gently on the coffee table and turns it towards where the dog sleeps.
Now Bingley can see himself, he tells Helen. And Helen knows that this will have a place in her home always.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 12/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Elisabeth stands before her crying, looking as dishevelled as Helen had this morning, wearing greyish jeans that were perhaps once white, a sheer pale blue t-shirt with a coral-coloured bra beneath. Nothing looks clean, including her. The long blonde hair greasy and pulled into a ratty side ponytail and Helen notices as smudge on one of the lenses of her wire-rimmed glasses, right in front of the pupil. Helen imagines that must make it difficult to see but then realises that perhaps Elisabeth cannot tell the difference between the smudge and the blurriness of her teary eyes. Elisabeth, as if caught in the act of something unsavoury, quickly swipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 12/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Elisabeth stands before her crying, looking as dishevelled as Helen had this morning, wearing greyish jeans that were perhaps once white, a sheer pale blue t-shirt with a coral-coloured bra beneath. Nothing looks clean, including her. The long blonde hair greasy and pulled into a ratty side ponytail and Helen notices as smudge on one of the lenses of her wire-rimmed glasses, right in front of the pupil. Helen imagines that must make it difficult to see but then realises that perhaps Elisabeth cannot tell the difference between the smudge and the blurriness of her teary eyes. Elisabeth, as if caught in the act of something unsavoury, quickly swipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 07/11/2025

Already posted the piece with movement, so went with move. #wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Helen flicks a small piece of chicken to Bingley who catches it midair with the accuracy of an Arsenal goalie. Arsenal. She sees Rowan’s red shirt in her mind and feels the weight of her experience and the two, or was it three, glasses of wine she has had today. The chair on which she sits feels as if it might dissolve beneath her and her body releases its vigilant hold, morphing her from a human shape to a blob before Claudia’s eyes.
Okay, mum. You’re tired. Let’s get you upstairs. I’m going to draw you a bath and then Brian and I will clean up down here.
Helen wants to argue with her daughter. I am supposed to be the one drawing you a bath, putting in bubbles and toys and sitting next to you singing Wheels on the Bus or Row Row Row Your Boat. But she can’t. She hasn’t the energy to move her mouth to form the words, I am the mother.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 07/11/2025

Already posted the piece with movement, so went with move. #wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

Helen flicks a small piece of chicken to Bingley who catches it midair with the accuracy of an Arsenal goalie. Arsenal. She sees Rowan’s red shirt in her mind and feels the weight of her experience and the two, or was it three, glasses of wine she has had today. The chair on which she sits feels as if it might dissolve beneath her and her body releases its vigilant hold, morphing her from a human shape to a blob before Claudia’s eyes.
Okay, mum. You’re tired. Let’s get you upstairs. I’m going to draw you a bath and then Brian and I will clean up down here.
Helen wants to argue with her daughter. I am supposed to be the one drawing you a bath, putting in bubbles and toys and sitting next to you singing Wheels on the Bus or Row Row Row Your Boat. But she can’t. She hasn’t the energy to move her mouth to form the words, I am the mother.

Brandy O’Briant @brandyo71.bsky.social · 05/11/2025

#wipsnips #writingcommunity #writersofbluesky #writesky #booksky #amediting #litfic

The father emits animal noises of such affliction, such heartbreak, sounds that seems to never end, sounds Helen has never heard before and hopes never to hear again. And a sight, a sight that will live etched on the back of her eyelids for all days, the blonde head tilting back and the viscous red fluid trailing onto the green cardigan. Rowan stands completely still in the middle of the field, staring at his sister’s body fallen on the grass, trying in his child’s mind to process what’s before him. He doesn’t scream, doesn’t blink, but watches his father run toward his sister, grab her head, and try to move her chin towards her chest in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.