James put another piece of birch on the fire, the stove hinges creaking with hot dryness as he closed and latched the door. The papery bark crackled immediately to life, curling black and sending smoke and flame up the stovepipe. On days this cold, the single-paned glass in the old cottage windows looked triple thick owing to the rime coating the inner surfaces. He reached out to touch the slick, silvery skein, feeling his fingertips numbing and a rivulet of meltwater running down and then along the underside of his hand. The bottom panes were frost jacketed, those higher less so, the hot, rising air from the stove keeping them clear.
Continue reading “James and Pruina by Mitchell Toews”Tag: loneliness
See You Next Year by Mark Barlex
Like all large things taken for granted, the North Atlantic Current knew the importance of what it did and thought long and hard before jacking it in.
An elemental system shifting oceans of warm water from Mexico to Europe slowed in protest at anthropogenic climate change then stopped altogether.
Nature’s last laugh. A landmass expecting to fry now pondered winters twenty degrees below average. No North Atlantic Current, no band of temperate air wrapping the Celtic fringe. Have another ice age, Nature seemed to be saying. Exactly what you didn’t order.
From Galway to Hamburg, people laboured through a winter of deadening snow and ice.
The next year, they stayed at home.
The year after that, they felt like staying in bed.
The year after that, they did.
Continue reading “See You Next Year by Mark Barlex”Smile if you’re not wearing knickers by Peter Arscott
I was pleased the butcher knew my face.
For months I’ve been coming here, wanting him to look at me, to really look at me, watching the sinews in his forearm tighten with each effortless chop of the cleaver as it neatly parts a chicken’s neck from its body, or a pink cutlet from half a ribcage. He carries himself with such grace, his every move unhurried, as if the world outside, with its fuss and hurly burly, is of no concern to a man who functions by his own imperatives, and in his own time.
Continue reading “Smile if you’re not wearing knickers by Peter Arscott”The Sun Rose in the West by Stephen J Kimber
The sun rose in the west and coloured the hills. Velvet dark, not quite black… Then burnt umber. Orange-red, limpid platinum. Light gathering.
The hills became distinct; hard, dry mounds the sun reached from, taking hold of the day, making it hard and brittle too.
A party of men came back into the landscape, carrying something wrapped in canvas. They stopped at a freshly dug hole. They laid the canvas bundle down, not too gently, and unwrapped it.
It was a corpse, bones really, hard white chalky bones, dead a fair while. These the men put into the hole, one or two at a time. Then, using shovels and a mattock, they refilled the hole. It looked hard work. The last blows were struck with the mattock by the smallest, oldest man – an Aborigine – and the other men stood about, talking. They were white men.
Continue reading “The Sun Rose in the West by Stephen J Kimber”The Lives of Gadu Tom Phillips
Everyone knew Gadu told lies. But no matter. He was an artist, and while nobody believed he’d run a cocaine factory in the Bolivian rain forest whilst living with an uncontacted tribe or been chief stone mason during the reconstruction of Mostar’s Stari Most, his stories were hilarious.
Continue reading “The Lives of Gadu Tom Phillips”Imaginary Friends by Gareth Vieira
“What’s it like, being imaginary?” asked Lisa Hannigan.
She sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, gazing down at her imaginary friends, Sally and Qney, who mirrored her posture on the carpet below, knees tucked neatly beneath their chins.
Continue reading “Imaginary Friends by Gareth Vieira”Unlucky by Gareth Vieira
Johnny Smiles was the unluckiest person in Hope County.
How unlucky? So unlucky that the town council passed a bylaw restricting him to his home. A motion that passed unanimously. A sentence he accepted without protest.
Although Johnny was an older man, most folks considered him an overgrown child. He was brilliant, in the way all children in Hope County were brilliant—a lingering side effect of the Disaster, that tainted the drinking water and perfumed the air with long-forgotten toxins.
Continue reading ” Unlucky by Gareth Vieira”The Finger by Joy Oden
The hydrangeas were bent under veils of snow. Irritated at late spring snowstorms and disorder, Ethan Crick had his broom to the bushes and the sidewalk before the fat flakes had stopped falling. He noticed the oddity right away, standing up out of the drift, pointing to heaven.
Continue reading “The Finger by Joy Oden”Tiny Squares by Shannon Murdoch
Today she is wearing yellow. Yellow dress, yellow hat, and a buttercup yellow scrunchie around her ankle. Today is a good day.
Continue reading “Tiny Squares by Shannon Murdoch”Over the Top by David Lyons
I hear the curlew flying low over the misty bog on a late summer’s evening. The air is damp with dew and the shadows are black beneath the tall whitethorn hedges. A lone cow calls out for her calf in a field beyond view and then stops suddenly as her charge drains the pressure from her elder.
Continue reading “Over the Top by David Lyons”