The Read More Project features some of the best prose, poetry and narrative non-fiction around. We have published work from a wide variety of authors from all over the world, with a focus on new and emerging writers. These works span genre, style, form, voice and subject, ensuring that the project has been as varied, eye-opening, interesting and entertaining as possible.
Buddy by Nathan Toplis
‘We interrupt this program for a special news bulletin,’ said the authoritative voice that suddenly took the place of the nightly drone. Buddy had never heard a special news bulletin…
Hope is an expensive thing by Corrina O’Beirne
Together they stare at the ACES AND EIGHTS neon sign swinging above the bar, then sharply at a couple of dusty, hillside, open-mouthed locals, hypnotised by a slowly scrolling Panavision…
Amniotic Suns by Jenna Grieve
She knew this night would come. It sang to her in dreams, in the sun’s drowsy rays. It’s why she collected and pressed the flowers.
The People Who Live in the Feeney Flats by Michael Cooney
All I knew was King wasn’t there when I came home. My mom told me he went to a farm where he would be happy. King had the mange really…
Ward 31 by David Christopher Johnston
I count the seventy-two ceiling tiles above my head – one for each hour I’ve been stuck in Ward 31. It feels like many more. The room is imprinted on…
Terms and Conditions Apply by Fritha Waters
She ignored him when he came into a room now. He’d tried to prove this point recently and came into the room wearing one of her tops; a tight red…
You always had rules, but we weren’t very good at listening by Cole Beauchamp
But you’re not here. She is. Maya, the wriggler who wouldn’t let you strap her into her seatbelt the day of the accident. I feel another rocket building, a glowing…
Going home requires more strategies than you left with by Cole Beauchamp
You imagine the words popping out of your mouth like gumballs, imagine your mum remaining neutral, your dad accepting. They will listen. Wish you well. You should tell them. What’s…
The Art of Preserving by Martha Lane
Not a single islander outside the family had ever seen the fossils. Forty-eight of them, perfectly preserved in their meandering parade. There had never been a larger collection reported.
The Ruy by Richard Garcka
Anita stirred her morning coffee and imagined a Sargasso swirl of letters and numbers, tumbling, gyrating. As the rotation slowed, they conjoined, drifting up from the surface: e4; bg7; g6;…
My Father Was a Man of the Ocean by Philip Webb Gregg
She came from the sea. One summer morning, on a Wednesday, so the story goes – striding up the beach as naked as the crystal sky. When she reached my…
Born With Bears by Philip Webb Gregg
They came from the dark warmth of our mothers’ wombs, held tight in our little arms as we slipped into the world. A knot of fluff and claws no bigger…
Hunger by Kate O’Donnell
Do we love, or do we love ourselves in each other’s eyes?
The Mind’s Eye by Margaret McDonald
The thing wearing Anna’s face is making breakfast. This isn’t how it starts. It starts when Erik is reading in the study, papers scattered across the desk, rubbing circles into…
The Little Triangular Pieces of Plastic by Michael Conley
Eventually they began to overwhelm us. Granted, it was never a dull moment with them around: they were often colourful and shiny, and would reflect sunlight in pleasing, shimmering ways.…
Each Time History Repeats Itself, They Say The Price Goes Up by Shannon Savvas
I wasn’t greedy. I was careful. I was consistent.
Monsters Don’t Feel Heat by SJ Walker
When our order was announced, I felt a huge sense of relief. Wasting no time, Hank grabbed my arm and pulled me with him to the counter. With our coffees…
Our currency is a wishing well by Hadley Dion
You fill our home with change. Dimes on the kitchen counter, pennies in the cat’s water bowl, nickels between the sheets
The Girl in the Woods by Megan Pacelli
The door buzzer drills its way into my dream, and I just manage to open one eye and peek out of my blankets at the clock so I can figure…
With his tail between his legs by Daniela Esposito
When he caught me looking, I laughed, but it wasn’t so much because it was small and squirrely but more because I was surprised and a little taken aback, and…
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