As I make my way through the hellish white I am beginning to wonder exactly why it was that I agreed to attend this evening.
The wolves hunt, sun blazing high in the sky.
By Aryana Motaghian I killed myself with a bottle of barbiturates. In the glowering half-light of a late autumn evening I departed this world, taking
The still summer day’s sluggish temperature was broken intermittently by the chirping of birds. Not even the wind could bring itself to muster a gentle
During a creative writing class on Modernism we were asked to write a short piece exploring the stream of consciousness style. We were also given
One. She could feel them behind her, hear the scratching on the wooden floor getting closer. Two. The whispers started. A language she couldn’t understand,
He was always an in-door sort of person. He preferred his technology to be closer than the threat of any natural danger. I once tried
Six am. It’s time for me to get up, it’s time for my day to begin. I spring out of bed, my pale blue nightie
By Aryana Motaghian I woke up to birdsong and a feeling of regret. Ana is next to me, like a cat bathing in sunshine, her
By Fraser Wilson A shower of sparks and explosive colours cascaded from the sky, flecks of firework ash and gunpowder scattering onto the hedges beneath.
She sees it through hazy eyes, her tequila-induced migraine growing with every step. Water. The rope swing, that’s what she needs. Wouldn’t it be perfect, she
The Wet Troll pub was about as pleasant as its name. Built in the lowlands next to the rivers that constituted the eternal marsh on
It is given to few people in this world to disappear twice, but, as he had succeeded once, the man known as James Forrester