Faerie Coffins by Barbara Buckley Ristine Ma says not to go to Arthur’s Seat. “The faeries will snatch ye—they come for bairns.” I believe her and I’m afraid to go, but Ian says there’s no such thing as faeries, and…
Awake Since ’78
Awake Since ’78 by H. A. Eugene Robbery/assault Corner of Turk and Hyde A white male and an Asian female left 222 Club shortly before 11 PM when three African American males in black “hoodie” sweatshirts allegedly pushed them to…
rEVOLt
rEVOLt by Mileva Anastasiadou She’d never forget that day, that glorious day of protest, a joyful day at first, as joyful days are when change is around the corner. She’d never forget his hand in hers, the warmth of his…
This House
This House by Ahmad Adedimeji Amobi I mustn’t take a step further. This house hoards the memories that shred before me. My father, sitting on his long back chair, holding his pipe in his hand, blowing flames into the air.…
East Bengal, 1971
East Bengal, 1971 by Mehreen Ahmed It was lunch time in Madhupur. Taramon, a motherless farmer’s daughter of 24, was just getting ready to sit down with her four siblings for lunch. Their father had left for the field early…
Something That Can Never be Held
Something That Can Never be Held by Cathy Ulrich You are being photographed with a stolen camera. You are pretending to smoke a cigar, you are wearing your best dress, you are holding a shotgun. You are going to…
Infanta
Infanta by Carolyn Oliver after Ravel’s Pavane for a Dead Princess Infanta, you dance as a gull sways on a salt breeze, as a fan swings closed between jewelled fingers, as a whisper stalls in a hot room. Eyes tally…
The anatomy of a hurdy-gurdy
The anatomy of a hurdy-gurdy by Philip Charter The curve of the body is yours. Wooden lines live and breathe. I cradle you, as if you were still a part of me, but you are not. My instrument is angular…
Timeline: FlashBack’s Seventh Season
Timeline: FlashBack’s Seventh Season In case you’ve missed any of these brilliant pieces, here is a round-up of the work we published in this past season, in chronological order. (And, as always, you can find our entire back catalogue on…
Not a Rehearsal
Not a Rehearsal by Anne Summerfield We should have gone to Greenham and slept under the tarpaulins, under the stars. We said we would, knew too that there was more at stake than protest. Hadn’t I skipped my work’s Christmas…