by Colin Burnett
Like I told my wife, “In this day and age you have to take the work where you can find it’’. She was always nagging me for that. ‘’You don’t spend enough time at home, blah, blah, blah” but, you know, it’s surprising the demand there is for house painters.
by Derek Aitken
My knee keeps shaking. I should sit still but the movement keeps me just slightly calmer. Watching the straight black trousers covering my knee dance up and down means I can more easily avoid the gaze of the people who pass by me with broken hearts. Read More
by Darren Gibson
The three of them travelled west along the baron flats of rural Saskatchewan in a used Honda CRV with the headlights dimmed and the taillights smashed in. It had been several weeks since they left the rotten core of the east, a land none of the three men would ever set eyes upon again, leaving behind lives never lived again.
by Rory Clark
A Beretta was all that would suffice for this person. It was almost an extension of one’s frame, they were so accustomed to using it. It was theirs and theirs alone, the cold sheath of the metal handle had been replaced two years back by a smooth and charming oak.
by Libertad Ansola Palazuelos
The imprinted sharp sole Read More
guises misery in my backbone.
Two crossed eyebrows insinuate
a full-size mademoiselle
by Holly Fleming
I’m about to press enter when I realise that I’m on the wrong group chat window. This message is for friends I’ve known for years – best friends who see “s’appnin cunts” as an appropriate and normal greeting. Instead, I’m talking to a project group for uni. Read More
by Sarah Spence
—Just me Johnny with some messages. Thought I’d drop a few wee things off, see how you’re getting on.
He eyes the bags, no wanting to turn away a good thing too soon. Read More
by Martin Fleming
“No Blue Label. What kinda place you think this is? We got Red, Black or Double Black.” I had obviously set my expectations too high and settled on Black. The oak finish was sensitive to my throat but I enjoyed it. It was a sign of life. Read More
by Maria Sledmere
You begin your technicolour love affair with the sun.
I’m sleeping through fire alarms, I dream of a Game Boy cartridge
which leads me to racetracks and ring-spilling pixels. Read More