Tag: writer

EXCLUSIVE: The Evolution of a Story by Tim Major

My first short story collection, And the House Lights Dim, was recently published by Luna Press. Its contents are billed as ‘strange stories about houses, homes and families’. The stories were written over a three-year period, and it was only when I started to prepare them as a collection that I realised just how prevalent

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The Role of the Middle-Aged White Man by Benjamin Myers

The role of the middle-aged white man? The role of the middle-aged white man is to shut his mouth and step aside. The role of the middle-aged white man is to not practice his saxophone in a studio flat. The role of the middle-aged white man is clear the lane and make space for the

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Dinosaur by Adam Lock

Adam Lock is someone that has been going about his craft in a subtle, under-the-radar kind of way, building an impressive list of publications where his work has feature either in the short story form or flash fiction – both online and in print. We’ve been watching Adam Lock’s development as a writer like proud

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FLASH FICTION: How Do You Classify Mammals? by Hannah Storm

At first Dom seemed okay about selling the Z3. We posted it on Auto Trader then spent hours poring over Which Car? weighing up family-friendly designs. We had already sold the flat and bought a four-bed house with a garage, now home to a BabyJogger buggy. I had no intention of holding on to the

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FICTION: A Thing Made of Teeth by LC Elliott

I was working late in the library translating an old manuscript when the blackouts first rolled in. The sharp-scented musk of ancient books has always made me feel at home, and in the subterranean stacks it’s easy to imagine yourself elsewhere. The brittle pages of the Aesopica crackled beneath my white-gloved hands, and the dim

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FICTION: Bit of a Scrap (Delhi) by Daniel Hutley

No, mate. Whatever she’s told you’s rubbish. You don’t know the half of it. Guess what they say down the Rose and Crown? Ask Pete. Get me a beer and I’ll tell you it proper. So picture this. Me ‘n’ Eileen, seven hours penned up in one of those piece-of-shit planes. British Airways’ gone nuts,

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FICTION: Postcards from the twenty-sixth by Niall Keegan

On the morning of the 26th Mr. Withers sits at his kitchen table spreading chocolate truffles on toast. He places them in the centre of the bread and waits for them to melt, before expertly steering the screed towards the crusts, an equal portion to every side. The knife moves innately, like a big fish

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FICTION: Noumena by Olivia Claire Payne

Perhaps to compensate for my expanding consciousness, I began to lose time. It was hard to realize that anything had happened at all because so much had stayed the same. My spreadsheets were still open on my computer. Candice was still on the phone, making the little, overly high-pitched laughing noises that told me it

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FICTION: Medicated Success by Glenn Bresciani

No more stress. No more looking over his shoulder. No more living in fear of Blue Cats. Mr. Frabbit is a new man on new medication. Everything is fine and dandy when medication is swimming through your veins. Why, Mr. Frabbit has been in the car, stuck in morning work traffic, for over twenty minutes,

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FICTION: Learning from Hawks by Elaine Desmond

The usual middle-aged men with their grey suits and matching nine-to-five pallor are assembled around the boardroom table. You hear the hum of their voices when you open the door. A few glance at you as you enter before looking away again quickly – then they all fall silent. The air in the boardroom is

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