Short Fiction and Poetry

Talking to the dead is something that one never really gets used to. It isn’t so much the fact that someone who has long since been dead[..]

It's okay not to know who Al Purdy was. He died over twenty years ago, [...]

Every morning, at dawn’s first flicker in the near dark, the small girl watched the thin man descend the steep and stony incline [...]

Hiding behind drawn curtains, wishing herself invisible, she balances on wire thin moments [...]

It started at twelve. Got worse at thirteen. He was dying to hold her hand. That’s what makes us all first burn: desire [...]

I am peeved when poems look like poems. It is the same with people. Treacle gets to me. I am good with gruffness [...]

Curled on his side, hidden beneath the homemade tent he’d constructed on his mother’s back patio, Arlo studied his arsenal. [...]

Lina woke in the deep of night when the stars called. The attic window was far enough away from her bed to look like a painting [...]

Afraid of what the world will do you feed the birds in your white cotton dress like Aquinas tousling with the good ending, [...]

Shortlist Saturdays presents Newborn by Bill Garvey! [...]