Author: storgy

Sally-Anne Wilkinson: The Magpie Princess

The estate agent’s colossal backside swings in great undulations like a ship in a storm, though his footsteps up the stairs are surprisingly deft.  Despite his size, he’s not out of breath or breaking into a sweat, but he does look like he’s about to burst out of his clothing.   Tearing my gaze away from

Continue reading

Lauren Bell: The Land Eater

The sky was the colour of pewter – one continuous spool of grey. The sight of it caused me to shiver. It looked so unloved; perhaps dejected is a better word. Dusk was on the horizon, steadily creeping in and dragging with it a bitter chill. I knew then that I should have waited until

Continue reading

Cathy Vella: Tree

Their eyes met over the foetus in a clear money box entitled ‘Potential’.  Neither liked it. They frowned whilst reading the information about the exhibit.  Both considered introducing themselves to the other, but decided against it. They meandered through the rooms of the gallery, weaving around each other, occasionally meeting at an exhibit. Both studied

Continue reading

Benjamin Hewitt: The Weather Where You Are

Nick never expected it to be this quiet. It was very late and dark and the cars seemed to float past with a kind of breathy sound that was somewhat relaxing. Most sounds out here in the city were relaxing to him. He didn’t distinguish between any of them. For 18 years Nick had been

Continue reading

Alex Ruczaj: Seven Facts About Water

  ‘Over the stove she has written ‘Help, Help, Help, Help, Help’ Pamela Zoline, 1967   Jessica Trent is woken in the middle of the night by rain hitting the window. Heavy rain showers used to be Jessica’s favourite kind, rain comprising of fat drops that slick her hair to her head and drip off

Continue reading

Gerard McKeever: The Cotter’s Saturday Night

In the beginning was the word and the word was snow. Delicious, huge piles of it all the way from slush to powder, littering the driveway this morning as David Saltman tried to get to the bus. He wasn’t quite running, though he did fear the consequences of missing another shift. He padded along the

Continue reading

Eva Rivers: Gottle O’Gear

There’s good ventriloquism and there’s bad ventriloquism. I do bad ventriloquism and on a regular basis. That’s not to say I make a living by putting my arm up the ass of a resin puppet. But at times it helps to vent pent-up feelings without moving my lips. Like the time I wanted to pay

Continue reading

Anna Maconochie: [Playing House]

They drank too much whenever he came round. Neither of them had an alcohol problem but she always felt the second, certainly the third bottle of wine was overdoing it. Until the drinking was just part of their routine. He was always the visitor, she the one opening the heavy front door. She was always

Continue reading

Lana Bella: Mother, Must I?

  Must is a word my mother often uses. Ti, must you always wear that ratty hat inside the house? Your father must leave now to pick up your brother from school, please pour me a cup of jasmine tea for I must take my morning pills, and the afternoon bus must be there by now with uncle Tai and grandma Hong on it, over and over. Though all

Continue reading

Tomek Dzido: Roots!

The myriad of scuffs reach out across his worn leather shoes – like a maze, he thinks, and momentarily loses focus. Then he remembers. Katrina. He checks his watch and realises she’s late. She’s never late. Looking through the wire fence he stares at an old lady pushing a chequered shopping trolley along the pavement,

Continue reading