Why I Left You That Day in a Pawnshop by Riham Adly I pawned you for cheap, for real cheap on the bitter-cold, July night of 1952, amidst the changing face of our city. I went to the pawn-shop on…
Homecoming
Homecoming by K. Noel Moore Someone’s bound to recognize me among the influx of new arrivals to Richmond Barracks. Someone’s bound to realize that as court-martials begin and a steady trickle of prisoners are set free, I remain inside. I’m…
Of Chinwoke
Of Chinwoke by Adachioma Ezeano Papa didn’t drink the pap I passed him. Papa just picked six pieces of the bean-cakes, and pushed over his plates. Chinwoke would have run to Papa. He would have taken the remaining bean-cakes, carried…
Sixteen Time Zones From Home
Sixteen Time Zones from Home by C. G. Thompson for “Lucky” January, 1944. Perched on a bunk in the depths of the battleship, he considers a letter to his parents. The night before, he and his shipmates had crossed the…
Iceblink
Iceblink by Mary Morrissy Down below you could hear them revelling, hallooing. Boots hoofing on boards, someone’s birthday. Wouldn’t half-mind being down there with them, instead of here, perched in the crow’s nest, blowing on your perished hands. You and…
Water Over the Tunnel
Water Over the Tunnel by Sian Brighal This ain’t no rock or land I’m familiar with. It’s as though the stone has steeped too long in the river above it, becoming soft and corrupted on what the city adds to…
Y2K
(Content warning: this story covers recent history & mass shootings.) Y2K by Charles Duffie The latch on the bathroom door rattles like the lid on a boiling pot when Papa’s cooking. Kaamisha squeezes her eyes and prays to wake up…
The Blockcutter
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…