The Blockcutter by Sarah Smith Apprenticed at fourteen; he never minded the early starts. Mornings, he shrugged his jacket on and pocketed his piece box. At the corner of Braehead Cottages and Mid Street, he wrapped his muffler close to…
Whispers, behind closed doors
Whispers, behind closed doors by Rosanna Hildyard Many years ago, back in our green days, we played at the new game of tennis, dressed up for May masques and dared call King Harry’s wife ‘the Spanish woman’ almost openly behind…
From Darjeeling, with Love
From Darjeeling, with Love by Kiira Rhosair April 1948, Happy Valley Estate, north Darjeeling. Koyli teeters forward into the bush. It’s the thirst. So intense, that her tongue has dried into the roof and she’s afraid her throat will crack…
The Landmines Up Near Sapper Hill Sing
The Landmines Up Near Sapper Hill Sing by Santino Prinzi The day before we’d finished our stint de-mining the Falklands, Yousef lost his legs. He knew the dangers, we all did, and it weren’t as if he were taking risks.…
Love in the Margins
Love in the Margins by MaryPat Campbell This wintry day I set to work. My skill with inking the great capitals and minor letters improves each season. Two decades ago, my father brought me to this monastery. Our long journey…
The Fur-puller
The Fur-puller by Peter Burns Rose and her boy been standing in line for two hours now, and young Billy hasn’t managed ten minutes without coughing. Not that anyone in that line would notice, their own lives being a world…
A Piecer’s Tale
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…