Flash

Wringing my hands. Ringing? Wringing out. Mary always says I’ve got sweet hands, delicate petals. The woman in me finds that both insulting and flattering. The dainty hands of a poet, which tracks. “Look under the couch,” Mary says from the hallway. She’s painting that wall, from wall to corner to wall to ceiling. I’ve

“I’ve just had the strangest night”

Bảo wasn’t from Glesga, so something about it appealed to him. The way folk kept putting it up there. The way no cunt ever saw it going up. The way it implied that the locals had a certain acrobatic ability. I suppose it encapsulated the place for him. So, on our breaks he was always

The Battle of Aberdeen

1644 (Also known as The Battle of Justice Mills, or the Crabstane Rout[1]) The Battle of Aberdeen was arguably one of the most climactic events of The Wars of the Three Kingdoms in the mid-17th century. The Wars of the Three Kingdoms were a series of civil disputes fought across Britain, the Scottish portion of

Father and Son

A’h was sookin at mah vape as we went up the hill, strawberry ice. Cold, sweet in mah lungs: headrush. Fae that or the hike. “Bad for the environment, they ones.” “Comin fae mr cigarette over there.” “Least cigarettes are natural.” We crested the valley and saw the great wicker body. “Rite of passage, m’boy.”

Lift

There’s this wee guy out buskin on the street, in the corner of my eye. I can see him through the glass of the lift and then again through the windaes of the shop. Makes me burn seein him. Not that the music’s bad. A’hm jist burnin. That’s whit bein a musician is, being jealous.

Turn it up.

My bass is in its case between my knees, and every time the car turns it shunts my leg further into the door. Tinnitus blending with the sound of the bypass. Screaming, whistling. Used to stress me out, but life’s about how you look at it, ae? I’ve chosen to find the sound interesting. In

Mongoose

(Fifteen Points) Ever since the age of fifteen, Zoe Fenway has been quite certain that she is dying. A slight, almost imperceptible pain in the jaw. Sore muscles. Feelings of tiredness, apathy. A sinking sensation every morning. A breadcrumb trail to a certain and indomitable truth. The truth of her impending doom. No diagnosis was

Bertram de Shotts

(1393) “So, tell me what you know of Bertram de Shotts,” Willielmo said into the flickering semi-darkness. “Hodon,” Baird said. The miller had only introduced himself moments before. He was short and gruff, but there was a certain sharpness to his eyes, glinting out between a pair of heavy sideburns. His home was scented of

Compact.

There was a dull THUD as the two men slid free from the metal tube.
“YOU told me this was a low-risk job!” Rishard said, landing heavily. Delta fell to the left of his companion, holding a black satchel above his head. The men were in grey, Planitech overalls and goggles.

The Immoral Lobster.

We were sitting on the front steps of Lidl eating pastries. Flakes catching on our jumpers and floating off down Duke St. It was a rare, sunny day and we were chatting about masks. Jimmy thought it was ridiculous. Not the masks themselves, just the way folk were treating them.