10.09.2017 – NUMBER THIRTEEN [Short Fiction]

In this post I’ve attached a link to a short piece which I wrote a while ago, a few years ago – it was one of my first-ever pieces. I will continue to post the occasional short story on here, and once a month is the aim – though I’ll post more if I can find the time. I enjoy sharing my works on here for those who fancy having a read when they’re bored or on the toilet. My writing isn’t the be-all-and-end-all for me, it’s recreational. And if you do read my stuff, I hope you’re intrigued by it, and I do appreciate it big time. Sorted. Nice one.

10/09/2017 – Copyright © 2017 Ryan Marsh – A Ryan Marsh Short Story – NUMBER THIRTEEN

Take care

Ryan Marsh.


Will be posting a new short story on here v. soon. Hope you are enjoying my site. Life on the Ant Farm AVAILABLE for paperback and for the Kindle online – visit my BUX page and it will take you to Amazon. Thank you. Ryan Marsh. 


So far, my book — Life on the Ant Farm — has been received well. I’m a hybrid mix of happy and impressed. Check it out on my BUX page or click on the image of the front cover [below] and it will take you directly to where you need to be. It’s available both paperback and for the Kindle. Thanks. Ryan Marsh


14.08.2017 – Life on the Ant Farm


This is my debut novel Life on the Ant Farm which is available on Amazon via the Bux page. My writing (although I am doing a writing course at uni) I’ve decided for now is going to be a social thing. This book isn’t any seeking act, it’s something which I’ve been passionate about since I started and now I feel is the perfect time to get it out there for readers. I find the process of writing very enjoyable. It’s a good way to channel shit I rate. Have a look at the novel if you fancy. I’ll continue to write, post and promote my work. If someone does take note then alright sound fair play but it’s not high on my agenda. I’m anticipating the feedback. Cheersalot. Marsh.

04/08/2017 – Life on the Ant Farm (Chapter One Sample Extract)

LIFE ON THE ANT FARM Copyright © 2017 Ryan Marsh


‘D-, don’t you have any dreams or aspirations, Marta?’ I humored with austerity, straightening my posture which means sitting uncomfortably on the ottoman.

Marta scooped up her Royal Doulton: Figure of the (can’t remember which) Year from off of the rich mahogany drawer and headed over towards the Food Prep room, o so theatrical, ‘Just good health, Floyd. Just good health,’ she replied, harmonious.

A short while after . . .

. . . my modus operandi: 2 go and severely convince the eternally-subservient Marta that I was severely indisposed with a severe case of the . . . no u just wait now and hold the bloody mobile flip-phone (!) as I can remember c when Marta abruptly-abandoned me I stretched the neck on my glitzy Rihanna crew tee and 2 I inspected my brittle shoulders so vigorously they couldn’t help but sparkle an I-really-do-adhere-2-myself gradient of infuriated caliente. Hmm, no, ha, no, maybe just stop. Hmm . . . could continue . . .

. . . I could continue to proceed with such an adrenaline-soaked passage but u c I’d rather avoid problematic nonsense. I must avoid. I must stop. Must stop now, I must stop . . . will stop . . . I think . . . I will . . . now.

Don’t want 2 go and get 2 over-indulgent and all self-referential in my own-self. C I’m not 2 certain if I want this 2 go and belong in the fiction works or the non-fiction works, hmm . . . no, you wait, tbh, not too sure, not 2 sure on the difference?!? Best stop now with the actual 2 . . . not literal enough, won’t achieve acclaim for the autobiographical or fictitious Life on the Ant Farm novel by brandishing the 2 around in order 2 come across so rebellious (like the Requiem for a Dream fellow) and no way, no! I won’t get 2 far by discriminating against to, two or too. Deter from the self-doubting, no more now; self-doubting portrays fractious signs of potential worthlessness.

There was this One Fine Evening at the House.

This One Fine Evening at the House: the mere hands of the clock. O no, the mere hands of the clock . . . hmm no, not 2day. Discontinue. I’m not introducing this impressionistic part of my narrative in such a bleak and cliché-ridden manner.

Once Marta floated off into the Food Prep room like a demonic fairy into a squatter’s dream, well u c it wasn’t long until Floyd, until Floyd was hanging off of the otto-, hmm, no, wait, no wait that’s, that’s just . . . accurate. C I was hanging off of the ottoman and this was an act of the pre-determined nature. No c I wasn’t accompanied by any of my witnesses. I had no idea as 2 where they were located at that time.

My witnesses:

I: The bashful Tyrannosaurus: a veteran member of the Non-Stuffed organization.
II: The primitive Paddington bear with the red boots and the red hat: a tribal warrior of the Stuffed organization.

They weren’t around. They weren’t being their deferential selves. I couldn’t see them anywhere. Marta had probably hid them somewhere and if I would have independently-interrogated her (under the beam of the Terzani) about her evasive actions then she may have referred to those evasive actions as being (essentially) just humor or quite simply just a game or something down those sorts of ridiculing lines. It was so possible that they’d been re-located way up the steps.

I put two and 2 together and thought they were in Floyd’s room – the two of them there side-by-side – ha, both of them, the Dynamic Duo – there swaying on the small-double like some nostalgic Buzz—Woody scene of mass hysteria, and in a synchronized manner they’d go, ‘Husssshhhh,’ if I was to just stroll into the room with my Polaroid unexpected.

On that One Fine Evening your protagonist was located in the Open room and centered mistakenly due 2 the harsh restraints in time; c I was almost directly underneath the interrogating beam of the Terzani stream – nearby Marta’s rich mahogany drawer – the exact rich mahogany drawer which held her (recently-snatched-off) Doulton – it also held her symmetrical companion which was her highly-regarded automated radio, kept balanced on top of a bulky stack of papers.

U c every Thursday I’d go through thought-out stages where I would attempt to break the automated radio or disable or damage it by pulling hard and rash at the papers underneath. The Thursday before that special One Fine Evening I had planned my execution with precision, yet due to an unexplainable blip in m-



Ryan Marsh
Release Date: 11/08/2017



#indiepublishing     #samplechapter     #openingchapter     #releasedate     #novel     #LifeontheAntFarm     #www.marshitis.com     #moreinfotofollow     #blog     #blogging     #networking     #post     #treatyourself     #story     #thanks     #for     #your     #time     #I     #appreciate     #it