“Only the wounded truly understand the healing power of other people.” This is what I tell my daughter as I brush her hair back from her face. She had been crying in her sleep, hands clenched around the sheets in front of her chest as though she were scared her heart might be trying to leap from it.
Read MoreSometimes you look out the car window and see them – running alongside you.
You aren’t sure what they are exactly, these strange beings, but you only see them when you least expect it, when your guard is down and then they slip out from the shadows of the trees along the tarmac road and follow the car down the highway.
Read MoreIt was wet. Unformed. The oats swam apart in the milk, drowning piece by piece. They were small islands in a vast sea, bobbing up and down as they floated apart and then back together.
Read MoreShe trusts Will. She trusts him more than anyone else.
She picks up a shrivelled looking mushroom and takes the leap. The earthy fragrance consumes her whole mouth. Her whole being.
“Try not to have a bad trip,” says Will.
Read MoreIt had never crossed Professor Dinklebert’s mind that the students of his Ancient History lectures would not appreciate him repeatedly being five minutes late, because he hated them all.
Read MoreIt was a Tuesday evening, and he’d forgotten to let the dog out again. He must have. Why else would Juniper be sat, panting at the backdoor, lolling her head around to stare at him every few minutes?
Read More“How about here? The lady I was chatting to on the plane said that if you’re not going to try food fresh from the sea, then there’s no point coming.”
Read MoreWit. Wit. My love, my heart, where are you? You have left me to die? To rot? To mourn?
Read MoreIt has always been so easy for people to forsake witches as wicked.
Read MoreMy eyelashes blinked dew off them, wishing I had a neck to turn my head from side to side so that the drops would pile against my cheek instead of pooling in my eye. It takes a while before I can see.
Read MoreThe music starts up. I grit my teeth and paste on a smile.
Read MoreMrs. Willen wiped off the 14th February from the whiteboard with the rag. She felt a flush of heat and put down the rag. In its place she wrote, quite deliberately, quite carefully: 15th February. Her handwriting was large, square and clear. Then she took up the rag once more and erased the 15. A lone th was left, looking blankly at her from the whiteboard.
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