writing

Flash fiction. Surface, by Rebecca Klassen. Image: silhouette of a children's ball pit. On the left of the image, a pair of legs are sticking out of the balls. On the right, a tentacle.

flash: Surface

Surface Reading time: about 3 minutes   1. The Blue-ringed Octopus lives in colourful coral reefs. It relies on the rocks and crevices in its environment for refuge.   A customer wants to speak to the manager, but I’m trying to write my essay on cephalopods and their dedication to procreation behind the counter. A

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Fiction. Palermo, by Jill Craig. Image: the silhouette of a woman looks out sadly over a wrought iron balcony. On the other side of the balcony are a couple with their arms around each other. In the sky is an aeroplane.

fiction: Palermo

Palermo Reading time: about 25 minutes The summer months are coming to an end and the town is emptying. Students go inland to the city; tourists return home; the doors of the many second homes are locked. In the calm harbour, the ferry has docked and buoys pock the surface of the water, bobbing lightly.

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Drama. The Hole Thing by Philip Webb Gregg. Image: a silhouette of an open door through which is a black hole sucking in various objects, including a pair of trousers, a cat, a flock of birds and a kettle. Next to the door, a person sits, looking out.

drama: The Hole Thing

The hole Thing a monologue Reading time: about 5-7 minutes CHARACTER:  The speaker can be any gender, age and ethnicity. Their attitude should be energetic but awkward. Dressed in warm, worn clothes.     SETTING:  In the middle of the stage sits a garden shed. Door. Window. Camping stove in one corner and kitchen just big

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Poetry. Accidents, by Dominic Palmer. Image: the silhouettes of a man and a woman face away from each other. In the middle of the letter 'D' is a knife.

poetry: Accidents

accidents Sunday evening finds us in the kitchen. You’re washing up, I’m rolling flatbreads out with tension like a mortise in my gut.   We’ve heard the news: a relative of yours, a garden afternoon, a sudden slip, and somehow, that was it. My hands still grip   the rolling pin, yours soak in a

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