The ritual would always begin at 5pm and take exactly five minutes. Molly would signal to her co-workers that she was getting ready to leave by sighing loudly and saying, ‘Right.’ She’d take her mug to the kitchen, wash and dry it, before returning it to its space next to the metal pen pot on
It began with a simple statement. An uncontroversial statement, as so many conversations do. “Hey, I bought that T-Shirt,” I said, standing in the kitchen doorway. She was peeling the dead outer skin from an onion with a knife and her fingers. It came off in one piece, revealing a layer as white and perfect
Theodore shuffled backwards into the lee of the narrow wooden shelter. He inhaled the familiar scent of old oak. The floor was slightly sticky, but other than that this shelter was one of the better ones. The overhang and the shelters in the row in front obscured his view of the podium, despite the slight
Blood oozing is not a big deal—even when there’s a lot of it. It’s torn flesh, capillaries, minor damage. Looks worse than it is. But when it keeps pouring out and doesn’t stop, you’ve ripped a vein, and that’s a bitch. Protocol is clear: clean it out, numb the spot with Lidocaine, suture it. Scott’s
In a time where the outside world reflects a dystopian landscape akin to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, sometimes it’s nice to escape into the mind palace with a fantasy story that is endearing to the soul. Elias Pell’s debut novel, Steggie Belle & The Dream Warriors is a welcome and refreshing YA take on the
I feel the flutter of feathers against my skin and I awaken. # His body was mottled, pale beneath his clothing but yellowish in other places as if the sun couldn’t decide whether to rest there or flee. Other times, when he was angry or lustful, it was stained red, like the juice of dried
I thought we were waiting. For it to be over. For things to go back the way they were. When you stopped messaging, the lie I told myself was that your phone was broken and you couldn’t get it fixed. Deep down I was sure you were sick. I tried very hard not to imagine
“But what about love?” said Elspeth from underneath the table. She was riffling through a sack of knitting yarns. “I love that love plays no part,” he replied whilst taking off his linen jacket. He gave it a quick brush down and hung it on the back of the door. “Have you eaten yet?” She
You better watch out You better not cry You better not pout I’m telling you why Santa Claus is Coming to Town Haven Gillespie, 1933 I’m the other side of that coin, the boogieman parents use to frighten their children, the Krampus from old
# Tuesday When she gets home, she sits in the stillness of her apartment for a minute. She studies the piano from the corner of her eyes. Grandiose, silent, waiting. All is well. She opens her trolley and sets it in the corner of the living room, with no intention to put it away just
