Island State
On 55th West between 8th and 9th Street I just miss getting mugged. I hear…
Browsing: Fiction
Fragment Number 64
It was Saturday morning. Maher was lying in bed. He had just woken up. It…
Parallel Weekend
I hadn’t heard from you since Wednesday, the morning before you flew to Copenhagen. You’d…
Three Parables / Short Tales
ABOUT A GIRL AND HER DATE OF BIRTH Once upon a time, there lived a…
Girl Without Mercy
My father was a French lumberjack. That’s just a joke. People don’t always know I’m…
Fiction Reader’s Block
We all see things with different eyes and it gets you nowhere hoping that one…
Into the River
I can barely make out Richard´s handwriting on the piece of torn paper. “Second left”…
The Perpetual Villa
“Il y a longtemps,” I repeated. “A long time ago.” My French felt clumsier every…
Getting Away
Margaret didn’t like Walls, so why had she agreed to go walking with him in…
Gull
Try to envisage Odysseus, on stiff headland, on the Western Atlantic coast of Ireland, tilling…
A Net Depends On Its Knots
My arse was born before my head. I’m told I shouldn’t remember, but I do. …
Fiction: Train Station
Awarded one of the Tidiest Towns in the nation, the place was profoundly inept and…
The Daymaker
For my Aunt Josie. Mamma died today, last year, at this very hour. I took…
Automated Spirits
They’ve been protesting now for three weeks outside the closed factory. I have to walk…
Beautiful Things
I see everything as if it were under a magnifying glass, so clear that it…
The Communist’s Daughter
In the morning before waking, I dream of vast empty plains of flatland and red…
Head Shop
Tedium was tip tapping on the pane of Gibbo’s day, the hours slouching into another…
Winter When Thy Face is Hid
I was so tired, Tuesday night. Don’t sleep well when I get that tired. I…