A Piecer’s Tale by Christine Collinson Mr. Hendrick is watching me. “Work faster, girl!” he bellows over the clack-clack of the looms. I heap loose fibres into the sack, just like every day, and hold my misery tightly inside. He…
The Essex Girl
The Essex Girl by Michelle Hemstedt I have told them she killed my daughter. I have told them she kissed her and gave her an apple, and the child perished. Laying that tiny body in the earth, I fancied there…
Senna
Senna by Steve Campbell Sunday mornings are spent dithering in the cold, passing tools to Dad’s lower half while he works beneath our car. I fight for his attention against spark plugs and tyre changes. After scrubbing his hands with…
A Falling from the Sky
A Falling from the Sky by Aileen Hunt Philipstown, King’s County, Ireland, 1846 That night, the wind bore a strange cry. Not the cry of a banshee. They knew that sound, carried it around like a familiar chill. Not the…
Ice Man
Ice Man by Jan Stinchcomb She knows that all the travel will end him. She stitches his leggings and sews his hat, stuffs his pouch with dried mushrooms, and carves her sign into the handle of his knife. She uses…
I Was a Man Who Breathed
I Was A Man Who Breathed by Chris Milam She was statuesque with a face that could make a soulless man swoon. Or a soulless woman. Skin as flawless as fresh paint. Eyes that were hard and shiny like two…
The Convert
The Convert by Clio Velentza See the bridge hanging in the mist, its sleepy arch, its pale stones held together by ancient mycelia and roots. In this ambiguous light it barely exists. See the swamp under the bridge, how it…
Hidden in Darkness
Hidden in Darkness by Diane E Tatlock I am here. At the dank, doomed mine they pay money to see where I took my last steps two hundred years ago, to hear the tale for entertainment. A man recounts the…
Promiscuous
Promiscuous by Elizabeth Burton Callie stood cradling her granddaughter on her hip, watching the woman from the Board make little checkmarks in her book. The woman’s smile looked glued on, something she took off at the end of the…
In 1960…
In 1960… by Grace Palmer …my husband tapped the teaspoon on the crème brûlèè and the yellow crust cracked. Egg yolk and cream spilled onto the cloth and my stomach wavered. The foetus curled, I swear, somersaulting and dreaming in…