By Martin Smith. Any retelling of the legend of Marty McMurth always began with his birth day, when he received a perfect score on his APGAR scale. On that day, his mother, Mrs Martha McMurth, laboured for twenty-three hours. Her … Continued
By Martin Smith. Sometime after I stopped believing in the Tooth Fairy—but before you’re meant to start fighting life’s dragons—I had one of them close encounters of the strangest kind. I lived with Mum in a caravan park at the … Continued
By Martin Smith. Bea Beeson knocked but once upon the office door And awaited the call from the commander of her corps. ‘Enter,’ a stern voice barked from within, And Bea squared her shoulders and raised her chin. With a … Continued
By Martin Smith. Feeling tired and grumpy? Worried about those black rings under your eyes? Depressed about having to suppress those cannibalistic cravings? Then you need The Cannibal’s Guide to Health and Wellbeing™. That brat next door kicking their soccer … Continued
By Martin Smith. There once was a little lamb called Larry, who lived a lambhood full of fun and frivolity. When he came of age and became Smith the Sheep, his parents took him aside and warned him it was … Continued
By Martin Smith. There was once a woman unlucky in love. For years she searched for the perfect man, a Prince Charming with whom to share her life. She tried online dates, coffee dates, wine bar dates, dinner dates, impromptu … Continued
Dabola, Guinea, West Africa, by Kris Fricke THE IMPORTANCE OF A ROOSTER JULIE RYSDALE HISTOIRE GEOFFREY GASKILL The day was sultry, and the last class of the day was lethargic. ‘Did you know,’ Mr Peck, their … Continued
Station, by Julie Rysdale A MORNING AT THE STATION JULIE RYSDALE The train’s warm rush of gritty wind scatters disposed coffee cups, discarded wrappers and greasy paper bags which have cocooned morning croissants and pains au chocolat. The memory … Continued
things aren’t what they seem, by Jo Curtain KEEPIN’ IT REAL JULIE RYSDALE So there it is again, fools. You disjointed souls mocking us mules. Taking us for a ride now. You are drawing us out? how? No … Continued
Timber, by Anne Franks EYE IN THE TREE MICHAEL CAINS Rustling leaves following my walk through the forest. Covering the tracks where I slowly pass by, The scent of trees lingers closely around me. Air sweeter and heavier, but … Continued