Smack My Controversy column Back in the day, the archer was alone with his bow (it was an intimate relationship) between the man and his tool, the same sheer connection bound him to his quiver of arrows and the importance…...
Hello, Crackers and Archery enthusiasts! I hope you are well. So, did any of you get to the Setu Arena for the recent IFAF National Indoor Championships..?I was there, and I must say that it was awesome and a great…...
You never forget the first book that cuts you. The one that leaves a wound, not in flesh, but in the quiet, unguarded place where thoughts sleep before they wake to meaning. Mine was a battered volume on the The…...
There was a time when the world was easier to understand. When the grainy flicker of Soviet cinema could paint the world not as it was, but as it ought to be. And in those darkened halls, amid the scratchy…...
Sinusoid limbs are multi-cam patented limbs by Davide Vicini from Genoa in Italy. Davide worked for many years as a naval carpenter, where he learnt about the different characteristics of various woods, fibreglass and carbon. This coupled with the fact…...
More quick interviews with archers here in the north and elsewhere. Archers Talkin' Archery is back!
Stories are not told. They are loosed, like arrows from a drawn bow, their fletching kissed by breath, their paths uncertain yet inevitable. A storyteller does not own the tale—he only pulls the string, lets it fly, watches it carve…
Have you heard of a madness that does not burn with fire but seeps like a disease, making bones feverish and bending the mind to its will? It does not speak, it does not sing, it does not threaten, but…
The first thing they saw was the light. It came from the sea, from beyond the edges of the world they had known, a gleam upon the water like the sun’s fractured reflection. Then the ships, too vast to be…
The fog drapes itself over the city like an old habit, curling around the silent bones of forgotten histories. The Green Archer (1961) lurks in my mind much the same way—a shadow flickering in the recesses of memory, half-formed yet…...
At times, especially within historical investigations, things become fleeting and elusive. The past ceases to be a fragile record and becomes the superficial memory of a chronicler. However, there are moments when it stirs, gathering a strange, electric energy, and…
I grew up amongst books, although never knowing for sure whether it was a blessing or a burden. In those days, you didn’t choose what you read. You took what was given, what was printed, what had survived the censors,…
The sixth in a series of short stories about The Archery Guild and its members, set in a fantasy world, known as Anordaithe.
Here you are finally introduced to a mythical figure only spoken about thus far in the pages of The Phoenix Archer.
There are few things as revealing of a nation’s soul as the way it arms itself, not merely in the sense of conquest and defence, but in the quiet rituals and peculiar allegiances woven into its martial traditions. A nation’s…...
There isn’t much evidence to support the existence of Robin Hood. Which is sad really. The Americans can claim Fred Bear and Howard Hill, of course. But it is unlikely the gallantry and romance of undermining a greedy and corrupt…...
You think you understand violence. You think you’ve seen it, measured it, weighed it in your hands like something you could master, something that bends to the will of the wielder. You think a weapon is just a tool. But…
I first stumbled upon Irish Celtic mythology when I was a lad of fourteen, a scrawny thing with a wild imagination and a stubborn curiosity for the unknown. It was my older sister who planted the seed, gifting me a…...
Welcome to a new series where I interview autistic archers about our experiences within archery. The goal here is to better inform people of our condition and needs within the sport. Furthermore, there will find plenty for those of us…
The trade was small, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A childhood barter, some scrap of possession given away for something else, though the details are long since swallowed by the tides of memory. I don’t remember what I…
“The king, his heart resolute, called upon his knights, ‘Where is my son, Charles?’ They replied, ‘Sire, we know not; we believe he fights on.’ Then he declared, ‘Loyal companions, lead me into the fray, that I may strike but…...