‘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.
‘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.
‘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.
‘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.
‘People on the street in the daytime come with blurred edges, their faces are grey scribbles in the air.’
New fiction by Cheryl Follon.
‘He told me to come round, said this time he wanted to watch me with others.’
Fiction by Leeor Ohayon.
‘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.
‘‘I was tired of being the other,’ you said during one of our Scrabble games. ‘You know, these days they even discriminate against bald, clean-shaven white men with weird- sounding names. Well, I am not exotic. I am exhausted.’’
New fiction by Viken Berberian.
‘He said if he had done it, then that person would have almost certainly drowned, and he’d be a murderer.’
New fiction from Claire Carroll.
‘I noticed she had listed three options. To hurt her. To get her attention. To make a point. I remembered learning about the rule of three at school, and I realised that it was probably a universal thing – or maybe she only used three examples when she spoke English.’
New fiction by Kieran Wyatt.
‘When you are unhappy wherever you go, the common denominator is you, Teddy’s ex-girlfriend told him, with a cruelty so uncharacteristic as to be true.’
New fiction by Sheila Armstrong.
‘She was so very, very fortunate, yes, she was.’
New fiction by Jane Messer.
‘For several long minutes, nothing changed. We seemed to be opposite and equal forces.’
New fiction by Laura Shaine Cunningham.
‘I knew that the building had been turned into a block of luxury condos and bore no internal resemblance to the halls my favourite writers would have walked; and I knew it hardly mattered either way, that I could have curled up in Sylvia Plath’s unwashed sheets and it wouldn’t make me a better writer.’
New fiction by Gráinne O’Hare.
‘I have been searching for the word to describe the feeling of wanting big things, a hunger that grows and surpasses what I have inherited.’
New fiction by Jimin Kang.
‘Then I told him he looked like a lop-sided Trent Reznor and didn’t he want to kiss me? This is a kind of flirting. This has never not worked.’
Fiction by Sarah Fletcher.
‘She was going to have a large life, an important life. She could feel it.’
Fiction by Hadley Franklin, winner of the Desperate Literature Short Fiction Prize 2023.
‘“It’s your birthday tomorrow,” said my mother. “Did you know the Jesuits say ‘Give me a child before the age of seven and he’ll be mine forever?’” “Who are the Jesuits?” “Priests.” “Oh.” She tousled my hair. “Thank god you’ve met none.”’
New fiction by Jago Rackham.
‘I mean something closer to: am I a good person? Am I sincere and devout to those things in my life that I ought to be?’
New fiction by Benjamin George Coles.
‘The few days turned to weeks and years and it was a decade before we spoke about the future, a conversation focused on the past.’
New fiction by Gary Finnegan.
‘You grow up in poverty. You are told you are lucky, and that luck is why you are the only child in the family who gets an education. You have a natural sense for numbers, and feel that luck is a question of numbers. It is a question of the number of years separating you and your siblings from the source of luck.’
New fiction by Lilia Salammbô Fetini.
‘I’d heard about the surgery even before Cathy reminded me of it. They’d discussed it on the radio one morning, and I’d half listened as I was making coffee, but it seemed experimental – outlandish, even – and I assumed the idea would flicker, smoke, and then go out, like the time they talked about finding volunteers to go to space forever.’
New fiction by Sarah Turner.
