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Writing

SHORT STORIES: A Portrait

Autumn was creeping in. It was obvious in the rich orange that the city had turned, and the gentle breeze that blew around Harriet’s shoulders as she sat bolt upright on the hard wooden chair. “I wish I’d brought a pillow,” she declared…

POETRY SPOTLIGHT: Jeffrey Endsley

Who are you? A high school student who loves writing stories and poems. Some Days Some days I would hear footsteps closer to me, And when I woke up I saw that human again, controlling me. Some days another human was next to the other,…

SHORT STORIES: Father McKenzie

‘Father McKenzie Wiping the dirt from his hands as he walked from the grave No one was saved.’ Eleanor Rigby (Lennon-McCartney, 1966) “The Mass is ended. Go in peace.” But of course they didn’t. Because they hadn’t been there in the first…

John Fante: The Man Who Made Bukowski

“Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town!” In Charles Bukowski’s book Women, there is a…

SHORT STORIES: The Man On The Moor

The greens, greys, browns and purples of the moor stretched endlessly away. Baby grouse could be seen leaping playfully between heathers with larger birds circling in anticipation. A wind howled relentlessly across the plateau, which would…

SHORT STORIES: Beverley Road

Between A and B were many things. Some charming, some dangerous, some confusing. All dark. He could have taken the bus, but had little cash and wanted the fresh air. it was a risk to walk the mile north to the suburbs, but he was not…

SHORT STORIES: A Burnt-Out Case

“Steve, we’ve got a call-out.” “Where to this time?” “Brough Park. Some act of vandalism.” “Ok then, off we go.” The vandalism turned out to be a car. A VW Polo Estate. Or what had once been a VW Polo Estate. It was now a burnt-out hulk.…

SHORT STORIES: McKenzie

The rain rushed urgently down the windscreen as the officers sat watching the tatty red door. It had rained all afternoon, but had really began to pour after ten, when the sky had darkened even further and opened itself freely onto the…

SHORT STORIES: A Letter To Clarisse

As James left the room, Clarisse spotted a crumpled ball of paper next to the basket and decide to stoop and amend the imprecision of his aim. As she picked up the ball, she saw her distorted name on the sheet, and began to straighten it…

6 Tips to Survive NaNoWriMo

Some people know this month simply as November, but for thousands of writers worldwide, November is National Novel Writing Month. A month in which they challenge themselves to write a 50,000-word novel in just 30 days. Crazy, right? Yet,…

HALLOWEEN HORROR: To Scotland!

I first met Kate online in an Internet forum for a book we both loved. She was witty and clearly creative, and while we struck up a friendship almost immediately, eventually I developed more feelings for her. But I’m the sort of dorky guy…