Literature

Girl Frost by Jade Riordan Imagine an autumn view: I sit near the gauzy, sun- chilled curtains, exhaling clouds past the thin fabric. Miniature nimbostrati cling  to the blinds’ slats and afternoon- condense on the window. I…

Night Light by Fiona McPhillips Just as the veil of day begins to slip and street lights flicker on to break its fall, I see you in the shadows that are cast like stains around the flat we used to share. You reappear in…

We’re all familiar with the fairy tales and classic stories of Cinderella, The Three Billy Goats Gruff or Robin Hood that permeated our nightly routines as our parents or loved ones tucked us into bed. Stories of bravery, risk and…

‘The Forbidden’ reads like a captivating, thrilling dream. Always on the edge of souring into a nightmare, it’s too late before the reader realises they’ve been in one since the start. Originally found in volume five of Clive Barker’s…

blue flower in a vase  by Bill Nevins                       we see today that we shall die the children sing as they mourn their murdered peers dull bullets in their eyes they waste no more time in fear I would leave you  perhaps a…

In the last decade, women have proved to be the most passionate translators of Joyce. Among these are Dai Congrong, Marianna Gula, Akram Pedramnia, Iglika Vassileva, Tamar Gelashvili, Dirce Waltrick do Amarante and Jolanta Wawrzycka who…

A Cheap Flight After Discharge by Leonie Lacey Our mother's worry echoes in his every footstep, a slush of wet sock meeting frayed insole. A teaming fog of talk to me talk to me trails his slighter frame, chokes our hello in the…

I first heard about ‘paralysis’ and ‘epiphany' as a  student in secondary school. Those words echoed around my mind, enveloped in a veil of mystery. It was my English teacher who talked to us about Ulysses - a massive book set on a unique…

Wabash Banner Blue  by Bill Ratner Listen to Bill Ratner reading Wabash Banner Blue A night of trees and winds  mangled sparrows  a dreamless sleep  a shutter opens  nursing in brumal air  moans of the slowing Wabash…

Moving by Ruth Quinlan There is little of me here now. The final days of sweating, bleaching  erase all but coffee rings on the table,  blushes of wine on the couch,  Blu Tack stains on walls from seven calendars. This slate…