Painting Houses

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.

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Number Eight

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.

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Saskatchewan

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.

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Osasuna in ‘07

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.

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The Study Group

by Holly Fleming
 

“S’appnin cunts?”

            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.

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