Tag: STORGY

The Literary Prize By Chris Lee

Bastards all.  Self-righteous, narcissistic, self-pitying, craven, cringing, oleaginous, vile, dribbling, deluded bastards. They all think they should win; they all think they deserve to win. And here they are. And here I am. We’re sitting on a platform; we’re waiting to read. They will read from the ghastly excretions that they have forced before the

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One Good Eye By Phebe Jewell

When I wake to find my left ear missing, Mother tells me not to worry. “I’ll sew you a new one,” she mimes, hands imitating a needle and thread. I shrug. I don’t mind losing another ear. All I need is a good eye and a steady hand to hold my paintbrush. I’ve survived three

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The Canvas of Her By Urška Vidoni

Some people are open books, easy to read with their pages displayed for everyone to see; others are closed books, hiding behind thick, heavy covers, protecting them from scrutiny. She was neither. She was a canvas, a cloth filled with a myriad of images and colours, like a Picasso or a Dali. Only the most

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The Kid By Ian Critchley

Joe levelled the shotgun at the two men approaching on horseback and tried to hold steady. He’d shot bottles and jackrabbits but never a man, though they weren’t to know that. They were going to see him pointing his gun and think he was an old hand. The men were hazy in the heat. They

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Sayonara By David Lohrey

People nowadays think that scientists exist to instruct them; poets, musicians, etc. to give them pleasure. The idea that these have something to teach them – that does not occur to them.                                              

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Order of The Pig By Neil Moran

Ackley surveyed the plot, his narrow eyes glancing over each of the men hauling bricks and mixing the mortar. This will be a fine church, he tells himself, a very fine church. His gaze landed upon Carlyle, who seemed to be idling once again. Carlyle stood with his back to the plot looking across the

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Amongst the Litter By Mark Colbourne

At the point when they’re about to sign, I’m always gripped by the strangest feeling. It’s a rush, I suppose. A chemical release; the flood of endorphins. There are moments when we are all teased by that quintessentially human impulse of self-destruction: the irresistible urge to do something detrimental, simply to see what will happen.

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The Basak Pottery By Alice Read

From advert to interview the time had finally arrived. First day nerves fizzed through her. She rang the bell, straightened her skirt and checked her phone one last time. Mrs Basak welcomed Eva in, told her to wipe her shoes and hang her coat up next to the grandfather clock. ‘The bedrooms are mostly guest

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The Hard Lessons of Old Men By Theo Von Prondzynski

Buddhism has a curious hold over me. I go through a trunkful of Buddhist books every year. I think I’d be a better person if I could put a few of their beliefs into practice. But then I fetch up against some strange epigram that sends me right back to the sense, the safety, of

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When She Opens Her Eyes By Sophie Gregory

She’s dying. She’s dying and I’m thinking: What if I don’t cry? “…wonderful thing about orchids is the variety of species, about twenty-eight-thousand. I bought Gareth a Lady Slipper Orchid and he simply adores it…” My eyes roll so far back they do a full rotation; a morbid one armed bandit where the Reaper always

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