All Stories, General Fiction

The Last Cigarette by Tim Frank

I had a theory that if I collected enough cigarette boxes and scrutinised the warning pictures – the obscene, grotesque illustrations of the sick and the dying – I would become so repulsed I could finally conquer my addiction. Of course, I knew I would smoke the very cigarettes I had gathered in order to quit. The cure, like chemotherapy fighting a tumour, would be as devastating as the illness. However, I had tried to give up so many times before this felt like my only solution.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Crossed Star of Bethlehem by Irene Allison

typewriter

“’Don’t move’? ‘Stay put’? Best mark thy lollipop-hole, Mouthy Munchkin, lest I break a ruby slipper off in your—”

Last Words, Wicked Witch of the East (Harriet Shelby’s Epitaph)

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