Janet Lewison

“I like a good custard” he said. “And so do I!” she said. Their hands touched, across the table, over the custard. “Shall we eat it, or throw it?” he… Read More »Brief Encounter by jack

Lying among the ashes from the explosion I considered life; it didn’t flash before me just rolled. Ensnared among simmering bits of wood entangled with barbwire and flesh, smoke corroded… Read More »Reflection by Iruka

Last night I dreamed of the gazelle –  Wet Night tarmac with the world  smudged at its edges. She even inclined her head towards me for a moment. Strange.  She’s still here  this… Read More »Waking

His face appeared at the window of the pub, eyes bright with the cold, an incongruous straw-boater perched on his head.  He raised what was left of a glass of… Read More »Winter Evening, Flask Walk: By Barry Wood

She closed the book and exhaled deeply, the tension palpable. It had to be done, unavoidable, the pull too strong, memory too clear. By the time she heard the door… Read More »Gold Paper by fiona

The others wouldn’t let me play. I dressed as Cleopatra. They didn’t recognise me. The boy took my wrist. We ran. ‘This is my secret den…I’ll show you because I’ll… Read More »Secrets by Kim

I lie here waiting in cold darkness. Someone moves near me. Then my song begins to play and I hear the doors open. They enter the room. Slowly. Something is… Read More »Departed by Kim

We went to the bird sanctuary last week. We could hear them chirping the whole time but didn’t see any . Jimmy got annoyed and began to throw stones in… Read More »The Bird Sanctuary by Kim

Enveloping:  foreboding; deep ,dense ,dark evil. A word of good, bad. deeds of terror under black. Daring deeds under black. Our Earth cocooned in black. Why should we cower in… Read More »Twin Black by Chris Dawson

My dad does paper work. One day he came home in a terrible mess. He had fallen into the photocopier. He was all in black! Mum was furious with him.… Read More »My Dad's Tie by Courtney

What do you give a ghost for breakfast? She’d always arrive with damp hair  begging for the top of the milk. Slight Kiwi accent too. How weird after all these years.… Read More »Toast with Katherine Mansfield

The little boy stood patiently in line beside his mother, two shiny silver coins warming his tiny palm. “20 Bensons please Mr Walmesley, and some midget gems for Oscar.” The… Read More »Pocket Money by Kate Gilligan

The sad dog stole some sweets from a shop. They were special sweets. They can talk to you and make you laugh. They all lived happily after in a mansion.

Over there was her favourite place. She  lived, breathed and worked in that same place every day. Nothing had filled her heart with more joy than the thought of an… Read More »Flowers by Sophie

Suspension cloaked her. One was never sure. Had she really done it? Elegant, graceful, incredible hypnotic eyes that gave no insight. Blue? Yes probably but was there a flash of… Read More »Demi-monde: By Eva

Maria was my favourite writer. i loved her writing for its insight: implicitly she knew what was good behaviour and what was bad. Her writing’s emotional literacy dazzled. I went… Read More »Maria: by Mark

Once there was a CIA agent. He met Scarface and said hello to his little friend. It was a beagle,  

Last night Rupert Everett stood me up. Not that I’m unrealistic but he was the one. Been bidding for weeks on that shirt. Nearly new D & G. Pink. Turquoise. Fully… Read More »Third row at The Lowry

A sniper. A cat. A death. The police were arguing what these seemingly unconnected clues meant:  “It’s obvious” said One. “It’s a terrorist calling himself sniper cat!” “No I think…..” he… Read More »Sniper Cat By Edward (50 words!)

Once there was a boy called Tom. He was psychic. But no-one dared to believe him. He always won his bets. He even appeared on the news and like Nostradamus… Read More »News: by Jamal

Blue eyes. Dark hair, too long with a slight curl.  Belly over his belt. Short legs,size ten feet. Irish catholic, lapsed but believing.  Four children, one wife.  A Story teller… Read More »Elegy: by Fiona

  I know a scary girl. She wants to be Paris Hilton. I think she needs therapy. Last week she bought a Louis Vuitton bag -friends tell me she is… Read More »Dog in a hand-bag: by Julia