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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    When the earring loosens and falls, leaving only the backing clinging stickilyto her earlobe (So appropriate, she thought, that only the crusty underside of things remain while their gleaming facades always cleave), it's not surprise but resolution she feels, as if the stone were a hang ...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    Curls don’t last. Just like you. Just look at my bedraggled, hair-sprayed, flame-roasted tresses. Hours of meticulous coiffing (complete with multiple nervous breakdowns) resulted in little but a horrifying flashback to the eighties. All for nothing. Curls and I just aren’t meant for each oth...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Fiona awoke with a jolt. Her heart was pounding, and she was panting as if she’d sprinted a mile in a minute. “Where am I?” she thought. She coughed, quietly. The last thing she remembered was she was sitting on her bed, reading the poem, The Highway Man, then there was a flash of lig...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Fall is coming: I can feel the crisp, cooler touch to the usual warm air of the summer. Dew lolls about on the grass, little droplets of rain, like millions of fortune-teller’s crystals. The sun beams down, shielded by a thin mask of clouds, flinging a greyish light upon the world. In the midst of...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    How could I have been this stupid? That was the question that echoed around my fevered head, but struck no answers. Icy spray stung my bare legs and I shivered both from fear and cold. There was no way out. My eyes darted from side to side but the island in the middle of the river was too far away, ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I am from the buzz of long-legged wasps, freshly mown grass, still wet and bleeding, I’m from a strawberry plucked to take the pain away, and cheesy sci-fi in a darkened room. From a strand of seaweed tangled around a foot, Jars of homemade jam and a swinging hammock, Sticky seawater and t...

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