Fiction

  • The Swing And The River

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    What happened was, he put together a makeshift swing. A piece of sturdy rope thrown over the outstretched branch of a willow tree, that swung out over the water in a great loop. We played there all summer, whooping and cheering as we lunged out over the water, daring each other to swing faster and

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  • Found Things

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    Someone had forgotten to clean away the bowl of fruit. It was easy to have missed it I suppose, that one orange lying there in the glass bowl. It was only when I walked passed it and caught the faint whiff of mould that I noticed it. Saw that it had been left there to…

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  • Resistance

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    Perry Johnson stood at the bus stop waiting for the number 89. Every workday evening he did this. The six twenty-five bus home was his. He liked the regularity of it. This waiting around at the same time, same place. Regularity was a thing Perry enjoyed, something he needed. If you’d asked him why he…

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  • Scar Tissue

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    It was her hands that triggered it. The way they were folded over one another as though she was clutching at herself in disbelief or shock. It was strange to see how smooth the skin was. It looked plump and youthful, pumped up with a chemical waxiness that allowed the death to somehow drain from…

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  • Midnight Rowing

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    Twenty four attempts. That was the total for the year and it was a record. At least five of them, he knew, could be accounted for by Gregg Sullivan. Five times that fool had gone under, and five times he’d somehow been hauled to the surface. One of the attempts he’d managed to scupper himself,…

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