November 18th, 2008 |
published in
Volume I
It’s the 28 October. It’s dark. It’s raining. It’s quiet out, but in Babahogs Cafe stories are being spun at Falmouth’s new reading night, Telltales. A crowd of twenty five people squeezed into the candle-lit cafe to hear seven writers read their work. With poetry and novel extracts as well as a crime thriller and […]
read on
November 18th, 2008 |
published in
Volume I
I pushed the door open, stumbling upon an open tin of cat food on the mat. A musty smell caught me hard in the back of my throat, forcing me to clamp my eyes shut for a moment. I could hear voices from above: giggles, shouts, obscenities. “Hello,” I cooed, not expecting an answer. A […]
read on
November 12th, 2008 |
published in
Volume I
Dixon fell off his chair at primary school in front of his jittery classmates and Mrs Jenkins on whom he had an enormous crush. Mrs. Jenkins had puddingy bosoms and because she wore tight sweaters of a wool/manmade fibre mix, she ever so slightly smelt. Dixon, only 6 years old and still missing his mother’s […]
read on
November 12th, 2008 |
published in
Volume I
The wind in the pebble. Writing thoughts, Is like trying to catch the wind, Or holding hands with time. You think you’ve got a good grasp, But turn to look, And see you’re holding onto death, And that the wind is a stone, And your thoughts are not even blood, Or water; just a myth. […]
read on
November 12th, 2008 |
published in
Volume I
The scenes she’d left behind in London gambolled erratically through her mind, out of synch with the soothing rhythm of the train. Lena nursed a Jack Daniels and tried to recapture the blissful assurance that helped her pack her bags just hours ago. She stared out the window into the night. The red-eyed reflection of […]
read on
November 4th, 2008 |
published in
Volume I
The Operation He was sweating and sweating real bad. He lifted a cigarette from an unseen pocket and placed it in his lips. It hung there waiting for the match. He always used matches, never a light, it seemed amazing that people still used those simple wooden things; it reminded me of a long forgotten […]
read on
November 3rd, 2008 |
published in
Volume I
“Just put it in anyway. What can we do about it now? We open in one hour.” the dwarfish figure yelled at the men in overalls. His booming voice did not match his diminutive size. Shaking their heads, the workmen muttered under their breath as they carried the glass over to the empty frame. A […]
read on
November 3rd, 2008 |
published in
Volume I