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.
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 my brain: custard-coloured walls, sticky floor, the smell of industrial cleaning products masking the smell of death…
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 burst of heat. Let her cry.
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 point of hiding?
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 than a peach. Doctors were confused, nurses shocked.
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 his temples.
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. But they were so floaty and easily disturbed that they’d get everywhere as soon as you walked anywhere near them.
Each Time History Repeats Itself, They Say The Price Goes Up by Shannon Savvas
I wasn’t greedy. I was careful. I was consistent.
Know Thy Neighbours by Slawka G Scarso
You bump into them on the stairs, in the lift, while picking your post from the letterbox. Some you’ve known for years. You say hello, ask about their grandchildren, or their pets. Some still avoid your gaze but they will keep the door open for you if they see you carrying groceries.
Unsent Letters Found in Time Machines by Sara Magdy Amin
I know now why the idea of you always seemed like an afterthought written on the back of holy paper, scrunched, thrown into a mist and never retrieved. But maybe there is a version of you somewhere that was retrieved, maybe, below a rusting copper roof, the past and the future uncoil at your feet.
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