Alexander Aspinall

- words

Alexander Aspinall

Alexander Aspinall is a writer.

He writes stories about other places, normal people, magic dogs, weird beings, and things like rain, spiders, breakfasts, sleeping and delusion. Snippets from some of them can be obtained on this page.

Once upo nat ime:
Twitter: alexpinall
Words from Alexander
  • Sleep

    Written on 22/11/11

    He'd forgotten how to sleep. Not the switching the lights off, closing your eyes basics; more the actual logistics of nodding off. It was proving difficult to remember: did he sleep... read more

  • An AlphaBetiCal Adventure

    Written on 22/11/11

    Although Alvin audits admirably, anal Andrew always advocates auditing assessment activities against Alvin Associates' analyses. Andrew: awful. ... read more

  • picture this

    Written on 13/01/11

    In this picture there is a couple looking at a picture of a couple looking at a picture of a couple looking at a couple looking at something different...... read more

  • My Nose

    Written on 18/11/10

    I cut off my nose. It wasn't quite with the intention of spiting my face. But it is something similar. It only happened about five minutes ago, so I haven't really had chance to figure... read more

  • Rehabilitation (pt1)

    Written on 17/11/10

    REHABILITATION SEARCHING "Where can we buy a total rehabilitation chamber at this hour of the second part? I don't know. but one thing for sure; if we... read more


    Written on 26/07/10

    It wasn't the man with the uneven stride that caught his eye, or even the giant woman with the stream of screaming children snaking out behind. It was the quiet man with the forlorn face... read more

  • Grey Day (snippet2)

    Written on 24/06/10

    They'd only been in place a few moments but the flowers were already wilting, as if the grave was draining their bloom. They didn't speak of happiness or of cherished memories: they told... read more

  • Grey Day (snippet1)

    Written on 24/06/10

    A couple walk arm-in-arm through the park. They haven't noticed the rain's fall increasing. They walk along, talking and looking and laughing. They aren't aware of the wind and the cold.... read more

  • Grainger House intro

    Written on 24/06/10

    From under the damp pile of sticks stacked behind the shed at the bottom of the garden he squirmed his way into our lives. And though his presence wasn't felt immediately, from the moment... read more