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fiction
fiction January 10, 2026
The dementia ward door was tucked behind the cheerful little cafe, sporting salt-and-vinegar chips and paper-thin birthday cards on wire-frame racks. Rosie turned right and trudged down the other corridor, following the faint-but-growing scent of...
fiction December 20, 2025
Here’s something Jen would never, ever have dreamed of doing, back in the days when she was married – listening to relationship advice from her barely teenage son. “Mum,” he’s saying, “there’s a lot of good guys out there.” “I can’t believe I’m...
fiction December 13, 2025
Under the rusty annexe that must once have belonged to something else, that is held together with cobwebs and ribbons, we don’t mean to mention dead mother but we do. Dead mother, who aren’t in heaven, we say in unison, in deep voices as if we are...
fiction November 22, 2025
My Journal 2025 Friday 31 October Dear Journal Remember I was born in 2010 so that by 2022, when ChatGPT went to its debutante ball online, I was 12. Cherry, ripe for the picking. I would in fact say (or whisper) that I was therefore on the...
fiction November 15, 2025
In the town known as the flood town, every kind of object – living and dead – floated down the river in flood. Chairs, trees, cars, snakes and once a goat, which came to be called the flood goat. No farmer claimed it, no child cried for her pet, and...
fiction November 1, 2025
If this land was made by anyone, it would be you. You always had a crucial role. Woodend is the beauty of your making. Our mountain is grey like the freshwater pearls you wore just in case he came home. The wet mud looks like one of your letters to...
fiction October 22, 2025
When my son was small, I used to listen from the next room as he tried to draw the godlike eye of whatever movie he was watching away from the plight of its people. Hey, Movie, look at this, he would say, waggling a blue plush dog in front of the...
fiction October 18, 2025
1 . Every day we must pass the building site at the end of the street. 2. We ask ourselves, what stage is it at? Complete abandonment or complete destruction. Or perhaps a stage new to us that we do not have the words for. 3. We slap our hands...
fiction October 11, 2025
On a spring afternoon in 2018, the man leaves Tretyakovskaya station in Moscow unable to remember why he’d come. His backpack, light on his shoulders, contains Dostoevsky’s The Double and a change of clothes. He hadn’t planned a long stay. He has no...
