Tag Archives: short story

No Laughing Matter

Nobody knew where it came from, or how it spread so far, so quickly. It appeared on three continents in the course of one day; a mark on the calendar that became portentously known as Day 1. It was soon … Continue reading

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Today’s Existentialist Rant

Driving back up the road after dropping my daughter off at school, I notice a middle-aged woman wrangling a blue wheelie bin into position outside her back gate. She looks miserable, the corners of her mouth turned down into a substantial, world-hating … Continue reading

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Cars, Ormeau Road, Part 2.

Black Maserati, revving; stuck in traffic.  

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Guest Post: ‘A New Corner’ by Claire Savage

Royal Avenue hums with activity the further along she goes, pedestrians filtering in from side streets; dropping out of shop doorways and sliding into the throng from the Metros. The buses cut a path past Castlecourt, Tesco, McDonalds, like pink … Continue reading

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The Sharp End

The pencils weren’t going to last. Even as she’d bunched them into the pot with their less-desirable, less-prestigious, workaday blue and red cousins, she knew it. They would walk when she was out of the room, borrowed never to be … Continue reading

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Belfast, from Cave Hill

Dreamers• schemers• bathroom cleaners• pipers• snipers• windscreen-wipers• typists• rascists• papists • rapists• spankers• bankers• wankers• outflankers• peace-makers• bakers• risk-takers• orgasm-fakers• fighters• writers• pillow-biters• shite-talkers• stalkers• hill-walkers• hawkers• porkers• growlers• prowlers• full-moon howlers• petty thieves• kickers of leaves• healers• peelers• drug-dealers• arse-feelers• dog-breeders• … Continue reading

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Cars, Ormeau Road, 1.

The roar of a high-performance engine and the squeal of tyres turns my head. A shining, beefed-up muscular mini, containing a skinny young man with short hair and wearing dark glasses, speeds down the hill towards town. The man’s tattooed right arm is hanging out … Continue reading

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Guest Post: ‘Mr Gabor’s Day Out,’ by Michael Costello.

Mr Gabor had a problem. Standing in front of him was a pretty young girl waving her arms and speaking very slowly. She appeared to be saying the word ‘DOWN!’ quite loudly, as if she assumed he was hard of … Continue reading

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A View from the Abyss

This morning is different to the others. I awake lying naked on a plain of polished obsidian. It is lit by a dim, pale, light, as if the crescent moon were hidden behind a thin covering of cloud. The plain stretches … Continue reading

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Guest Post: ‘Spencer, my Planter Moniker,’ by Brian John Spencer.

‘The civil tongue that masks the uncivil mind.’ Eamon met a minister. The calvinist cleric called him “Seamus.” My friend corrected him. The preacher cooly followed, “Same thing.” “What’s your name?” “Robert,” responded the minister. “Ok great, William.” My friend … Continue reading

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