Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as romantic as we’d intended. The wind was sharp, and we weren’t dressed for the weather. We shut your car’s doors with overenthusiastic thuds and stretched our aching legs, only to find our breath coming out in bursts of mist. It wasn’t long until we started shivering.
Read MoreThe last time I saw Cole was September 11th 2001. A date which would become one of the most infamous in American history, synonymous with people falling from the sky like the announcement of the end of days.
Read MoreRain rejects the scorched soil below, desperately reaching toward the merciless clouds above. I wonder what those unfortunate droplets did to be exiled from the barracks. Perhaps they were deserters, parachuting down with silent grace, like those dancer girls in the pictures. Did they fall upon the abrasive farmland and have second thoughts? Could they ever find their way back to the heavens?
Read MoreA perverse camaraderie manifests in the courtyard outside the church. Timid murders of friends congregate ashamedly, forming shallow alliances under the mist of cigarette smoke. An unforgiving wind sets this June afternoon apart, polluting the sun's light.
Read MoreDarkness was simple and predictable and, though I didn’t know it then, allowing darkness to dominate my peripheral vision would be the last time I ever felt in control.
Read MoreThe four of us were playing, rushing down the street on our bicycles. We moved from side to side, competing in a game of chicken with the cars.
Read MoreThat night you dreamt of past times, times of trains and horses, of castles and kings, of dances and rituals, of rivers and forests. And in the morning you woke up with a new noise, one you hadn’t heard before.
Read MoreI was enjoying my usual routine, until I encountered an old flame of mine. Splendid. We locked eyes and that’s when I realised that after all these years, there was a lingering connection between us.
Read MoreHalfway through our interview, Mr Dover has another vision. He sits there, vacant like an abandoned house, limbs lying limp over the sides of the chair.
Read MoreThe compact mirror was my birthright, passed down by my mum and given to her by her own mother, a binding thread between my ancestors like a daisy chain. Every woman in my family has had this object, but like laughter or a dance, it’s never the same twice. It’s malleable and morphs, transforming into something specific for each person.
Read MoreHe strained his ears as if he could hear anyone speak to him but all that echoed was silence. The longer he sat in the void, the louder the ghosts of his past started to breathe - his mother’s concern, his father’s love, and his son’s innocence.
Read MoreHe grasped the picture tightly to his chest, a tear trickling down his cheek. A sharp wind prickled the tips of his ears, turning the end of his nose a soft crimson. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he jumped off the wall, kicking a rock across the sand. Ahead of him, the tide moved in a constant rhythm, moving backwards and forwards.
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