Category: writing

From Both Sides By Sam Saxton

He was crossing the road onto Trafalgar Square just like everyone else around him. They were tourists, for the most part, people who had come here deliberately. It was going to be an evening for it. The clouds, if they could even be called that, had floated off again, leaving no doubt about the weather.

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Last Days By Ben Tufnell

I. The summer we found the skull was also the summer that Smith got stuck in the sluice gate and nearly drowned, and somehow those two events have been inextricably linked in my mind ever since. Looking back now, it is as if together they formed a threshold, a kind of boundary between the first

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Happysad By Philip Charter

Dying was the easy part. When my children moved to Amsterdam, and later, when my husband departed this world, I endured difficult times. But hardest of all was the day I accepted the only way to escape my agony was to leave my body behind. With each passing year, I lost friends and family to

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The Caterpillar Star By Billy Brooks

Now and then, when the moon flaunts a particularly peculiar hue, one is overcome with an insatiable yearning to fall backwards. The first port of call is more often than not the scrapbook. But, typically, upon looking at the postcards within, memories fade into milky incandescence. Some girls will then turn to systematic meditation, sitting

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Stones By Jeffrey Ihlenfeldt

Carl figured there just weren’t enough adjoining plots in Our Lady of Sacred Light’s cemetery to accommodate the family in full—the dead and the would-be dead.  So, they were split up—father and mother in one space, plots for Carl and Nate in another.  Carl’s father was the first to go, and he was gone for

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The Loss Adjuster By Ola Mustapha

Peter’s fingers brush Caitlin’s as he takes the pamphlet from her hand. He nearly says, ‘Jesus Christ, your hands are freezing,’ but stops himself. It’s overfamiliar, when they’ve just met. ‘“Creeping nothingness”,’ says Caitlin. ‘That’s how you described it on the contact form, right?’ ‘Right,’ says Peter, pretending to read the testimonials. ‘Thanks.’ His thumb

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One Night at Saint Peregrine’s By V.J. Hamilton

Dwight hovered in front of the vending machine. Oversalted chips, over-sugared candy bars, or the caloric emptiness of gum. Why did the hospital offer such faux nutritional alternatives; wasn’t that a conflict of interest? When he was a kid, vending machines meant something exotic or exciting. The rare trips to Father’s workplace had always involved

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The Haunting of Lord Baraclough By Ian Murphy

The degree to which a gentleman reveals himself to another is a curious state of affairs at the best of times, though I suppose the holding of a razor to one’s throat helps. That said, I doubt anyone would be the slightest bit surprised at a gentleman’s willingness to betray the confidence of another, whether

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Scotoma By Carla Morgan

Mesmerised, her eyes locked onto the images on the screen. An earthquake in the ocean, its magnitude measuring in at ‘twenty-three thousand Hiroshima sized bombs’ causing a tidal wave forty foot high, its watery fingers grasping at the shore, breaking with the puissance of a racehorse, moving swiftly round the corner, taking the final hedge

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Teen Poppy By Ryan Coull

I came across the troll yesterday, quite by chance. I’d been clearing the loft, and there it was at the bottom of a tattered box containing miscellany from my youth, that impudent smile I hadn’t seen in many years. Finding it brought to mind a much larger troll, for want of a better word, an

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