The Poor Little Squirrel
Share That poor little squirrel, how did it get here amongst all this noise metal? Wandering lost and terrified through a land of looming monuments. It’s black eyes longing and big bushy tale fluffing around like a mad womble. It probably took the bus the little fare dodger. Squirrels can’t get oyster cards so it...
Petra – a short story
Share It was too late for prayers, the priests were brooding at his approach, it would not do for a royal to be so lacking towards the gods. Especially one so close to fall, His long robes swayed about his hurried stride, his limbs were old but he could still hold himself high, the few...
The Polar Chief
Share “Well isn’t that the saddest story you ever saw?” Ern said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, making his swallow tattoo glisten in the icy sun. And in truth it was. We’d been gone six weeks now, and we hadn’t seen a single soul for two of them other than ourselves....
Salt and Shingle
Share Whenever I think of the place, it’s a grey autumn day in November. Stirrings of Christmas, mist in the air, chill clinging to clothing, those little drops of moisture that would bead my fleece with dew. Old women weighed by plastic bags full of God-knows-what shuffling down the beleaguered high street. The town, back...
The Camper Van and the Criminal Justice Bill
Share After the divorce, the nineties began. My father, guilt ridden, took it upon himself to make amends and began taking my younger brother and me on a series of trips around the British Isles. We would go to places of natural beauty, which he hoped would instil in us some of his love...
Stud Marsh
Share It’s been a long time. The bird freewheels through the air, soars above the reed-beds, dives into the marsh hunting frogs, smaller birds, water voles. The wetlands that form an isolated NNR, just outside the tiny village of Stodmarsh. Picturesque rural England pushed to the point of absurdity. It can’t be real, merely an...
Stained Desire
Share a story by: Eugenie Huibonhoa Years and years came as obstacles in the wind. I could imagine myself that night. Overwhelmed by hunger, so desperate enough that I would knock on the most sacred door in the country. Desperate. But so were they. They took me in- a fragile silhouette carving itself in the...
Coming Down
Share A dirty street in South London. Smoke-breath gusts in freezing air. The promise of snow. A huddle of patch-jacket smokers shuddering and inhaling outside the pub. A few piercings, studs, heads newly scalped, boots, army coats. Some tattoos visible. A solitary dyed Mohawk. An elderly West Indian woman shuffled past. Scowled. The rumble of...
Visionary Landscapes
Share “The hills in our minds cannot be measured in miles” - Leatherface, ‘Shipyards’ - “And tomorrow? Tomorrow’s been cancelled due to lack of interest.” - ‘The Last of England’ Andrew Kotting’s 1996 psycho-geographic tour of Britain, ‘Gallivant’, played on the smeared TV set. Little Eden and Big Granny accompany him around the...
The Journey of the Faceless man by Hamza Farooq
Share Born without a name, without an identity, the faceless man’s journey begins as any other slum dog. No, he doesn’t grow up to become a millionaire. I doubt any slum kids do. The faceless man’s life is consumed by emptiness and without reason. In his life, there is no such thing as destiny. ...
Talent by Gabriele Zuokaite
Share Talent You wake up late, when all those awoken by the alarm have already made their coffee. You are lying down and staring at the ceiling, drawing an imaginative trajectory of the fly’s flight pattern. You feel like a Gulliver, tied down with dozens of tiny sturdy ropes. It seems that your bed became...
‘Ogle & Creake’, a short story by Kieran McGuire
Share The woods groaned in nervous curiosity, swaying and shifting in the still air. Two creatures shuffled along in their midst, down a path of dirt and stones. They appear at first glance to be men, but a closer inspection finds something amiss. As if they were doodles of men, drawn in the dark, their...
Spider Dance by Gabriele Zuokaite
Share Spider Dance Warm and clear water surrounds your tired body. It feels so light. You relax and close your heavy eyelids. You feel water gently rippling, and it reminds you of a soft tickling within the entire body. You think it is because you are relaxed that you don’t feel your numb body...
Soft City, Fantastic Metropolis – a short story by Gary Budden
Share “There are certain memories that never really reach your brain. They stay in your blood like a dormant virus.” - Michael Moorcock, ‘London Blood’ The city was soft. Streets expanded and contracted with the seasons, thumbprints were left in plasticine tarmac. Quick-sand concrete that could pull you under threatened to trap memories, biography butterfly-pinned...
‘Subject Frank’, a short story by Kieran McGuire
Share Private Log: Dr. Edward Carcer Date and Time: 1/9/2031, 20:34 Subject: Subject Frank Procedures and Observations: Began testing on Subject Frank today at 08:00. Subject Frank exhibits a global psychogenic amnesia caused by extensive psychological stress –rather than neurobiological issues – and is in a permanent fugue state. Given his lack of recovery...
Beltain – a short story by Gary Budden
Share ‘Under Margaret Thatcher, the government had decided to build a network of new motorways and trunk roads in order to realise her dream of universal driving. Hers was a programme not just to facilitate car ownership, but also to close down the alternatives. We fought for Solsbury Hill because of what it was, what...
Fur Coat and French Knickers by Eileen Dickson
Share A silver moon slung low in the night sky and gray shapes moved beneath it, long blunt muzzles raised upwards. Howling pierced the air and small animals took fright, scuttling away into the undergrowth. ‘That’s better lads, but you need to really open those throats – show you mean business.’ The Wolf looked round...
Dear Lies
Share Dear Lies I haven’t quite decided if this is a hate or love letter.Maybe it’s a bit of both. I have sometimes been your ally and at times your enemy.A relationship like this would never end well.The idea of you brings mixed emotions. At times you make me believe that I’m so powerful and...
About Flossie by Claire Glass
Share I grew up one house down from my grandparents and they were my babysitters. Like so many kids who grow up with grandparents at home, mine were a constant, one house removed. Hesh and Flossie were my only baby sitters save for one, who I liked all right. She told me stories about alien...
The Creative Writing Workshop by Peter Kimber
Share Chairman Okay, thanks for the reading Jerry. Has anybody got some feedback for Jerry? Don’t all speak at once will you? Well let’s go round the table. What about you Bobby, is there anything you want to say about the story’s opening? Bobby I think that when the delegates went into the conference room...
Mrs Chippy and the Pipe Shop by James Spender
Share Jangling the bell attached to the frame as she pushed open the door, Chippy felt a certain coolness around her whiskers. With one swift movement of her brain she realised; this was it. The musty smell of pipe confirmed it. She had entered Terry’s Pipedream; the fabled fitter’s nightmare. Shelf upon shelf. Row upon...
MONTSERRAT by Philippa Burne
Share She’d stayed in Barcelona because of him. Unpacked her suitcase into his closet. Stayed in his empty boy-room. Filled the space with her: her clothes, shoes, books. Her smell. He said he liked it. They never talked about for how long. They’d met on a bus trip to Montserrat. He was the guide; she...
Parallel Universes by Jerry Levy
Share The woman sitting opposite me on the subway was reading a book – Tangential Relationships of Parallel Universes. The title unnerved me. Not only was I not sure what ‘tangential’ meant but I had never spent any time contemplating parallel universes. In the pedestrian world of the underground transit system – where the Harlequins...
walking pneumonics
Share I set off, oh! how I utterly did. From Lothian road with the destination of the national gallery, Princes Street clear in my mind. A chest infection having plagued me lately, my naturally spritely, youthful pace became too much for my poor respiratory system to keep up with and so I slowed to an...
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