‘I distract myself with the idea that human beings can be divided into two categories: those who wait, and those who make others wait. If forced to, I’d describe myself as one of those who wait.’
Short fiction by Sergi Pàmies.
Fiction | The Overpass by Jiaqi Kang
‘All those who disappeared had to come back. Or at least, they had to announce their intention to disappear before they disappeared. Otherwise, how would anybody know?’
Awarded second place in the Brick Lane Bookshop Short Story Prize 2025, ‘The Overpass’ by Jiaqi Kang.
Fiction | Dogelon Mars by Adrian Nathan West
‘In his own life, money had been nearly but never wholly absent, manifested in quantities of just-barely- and almost-enough.’
Short fiction by Adrian Nathan West.
Fiction | Black Cake by Renesha Dhanraj
‘Sitting across the ornate coffee table from my husband, I felt as if I was seeing him for the first time. I told him so, somewhat jokingly, but mainly to crush the silence that had overtaken us, and was about to add, At least we can finally catch our breath, eh? but then I was overcome by the feeling of telling a lie, so I kept the rest to myself.’
Winner of The London Magazine Short Story Prize 2025.
Fiction | Two Portraits by Carlos Paguada
‘The few people I have shared this experience with tend to fall into two camps: those who praise my abilities to invent things that never happened and those who believe that I’m just being deliberately obtuse. Everyone’s entitled to their fair share of scepticism, right?’
Short fiction by Carlos Paguada.
Fiction | Mostly Children by Sam Corbett
‘The loneliness I felt, sitting at that table eating my sandwich, was breathtaking. It was a feeling I didn’t know I was capable of summoning.’
New short fiction by Sam Corbett.
Fiction | Duchess by Gráinne O’Hare
‘When I passed the baby to her to hold, she did so with the bored detachment of a taxi driver holding a name card at an airport.’
New short fiction by Gráinne O’Hare.
Fiction | My Secession by JL Bogenschneider
‘It took years – time, distance and eventually death – before I even approached a comprehension of my father, and of course, in lieu of any verification on his part, it could only ever be speculation. Still, and but so, I tried.’
Short fiction by JL Bogenschneider.
Fiction | Still Life with Neighbours by Eddie Creamer
‘It was as if I was being allowed an insight into the very core of their lives, and I felt closer to them than to the people I actually lived with.’
Short fiction by Eddie Creamer, runner up in The London Magazine Short Story Prize 2024.
Fiction | The Inspection by Joshua Jones
‘Maybe they just won’t look up, he said. Many people go their whole lives without looking up.’
New short fiction by Joshua Jones.
Fiction | Anywhere Apart from Here by Beth Preece
‘I hope there is something just beyond the purview of my language that goes further than just wanting to be a woman and not always having been one.’
New short fiction by Beth Preece.
Fiction | Heat Signature by Idra Novey
‘In my calculations for our one-year stay here, I didn’t consider whether the layered emotional outfits I’ve assembled for my parenting persona in Rio might not fit here.’
Short fiction by Idra Novey.
Fiction | Reasons for Not Speaking by Amaan Hyder
‘But these are not just white people, these are queer people. And what is that supposed to mean? Is queer some reliable thing?’
Short fiction by Amaan Hyder, winner of The London Magazine Short Story Prize 2024.
Fiction | Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof by Phoebe Hurst
‘When The Reverend was preaching, I had to dare myself to look at him. But then it would happen and it was never as bad as I feared. ‘
New short fiction by Phoebe Hurst.
Fiction | Submechanophobia by Charlotte Tierney
‘Bill had never worried about how others received him, or his behaviour. He prioritised, instead, being as much himself as possible, for the sake of his art.’
New fiction by Charlotte Tierney.
Fiction | In That Other City, One I Knew and Loved by Jimin Kang
‘It was in moments like these that Pablo questioned whether ambition could be vaster than this: the ocean, the magnanimity of drunkenness around old friends, the heart-tug of seeing private concerns etched into their faces, all the sorrows he once believed would also be his.’
New short fiction by Jimin Kang.
Fiction | Harbour Colours by Eloise Vaughan Williams
‘Blue thinks Red might be a person who dislikes even the bones of himself. That he also worries he might be missing something, or rather hopes he is, instead of believing he has broken it. Blue thinks they might be alike in that.’
New fiction by Eloise Vaughan Williams.
Fiction | Index of Intersecting Qualia by Mimi Kawahara
‘I’ve always been in the minority, you say with defiant pride, upon reading Hippocrates’ conclusion that one third of patients get better on their own, one third don’t respond to treatment, and one third benefit from it.’
New fiction by Mimi Kawahara.
Fiction | Coral by Joseph Pierson
‘Jesus doesn’t cure her, she cures herself. But if there were no Jesus for her to believe in then she couldn’t cure herself. I find that very powerful. There is a synergy there close to paradox but not quite.’
New short fiction by Joseph Pierson.
Fiction | About Lucy by Emily Waugh
‘When so many bad things have happened to someone, they are automatically a good person. You have to be nice to them. Their misfortune creates a magnetic field of deflection.’
New Fiction by Emily Waugh.
Fiction | Love: Eight Definitions by Eamon Doggett
‘She did the work during the daytime: dressing him, washing his hair, and giving him his medicine. Most of that time Adrian can’t collate and discern any linearity, nor can he describe with any material details its happenings.’
New fiction by Eamon Doggett.
Fiction | The Writer by Cheryl Follon
‘People on the street in the daytime come with blurred edges, their faces are grey scribbles in the air.’
New fiction by Cheryl Follon.
Fiction | Consultation by Leeor Ohayon
‘He told me to come round, said this time he wanted to watch me with others.’
Fiction by Leeor Ohayon.
Fiction | Flamboyant by Patrick Cash
‘He wondered if it became, at some point, too late to reclaim who you want to be. Maybe some people are just Frankenstein’s personalities, stitched together through the limbs of borrowed traits.’
New fiction by Patrick Cash.