EGG+FROG 2.0 Reading time: about 2.0 minutes We heard you all out there. We heard you all having fun in the rain, downing your cocktails and ruffling the pages of a paperback under a parasol. We heard you from the basement. Yes, we of little brain have been spending our summer tinkering with a website […]
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The Never-Ending Narrative ‘The Never-Ending Narrative’ is our collaborative, unlimited work of fiction. We want to see what a story can be when the traditional parameters of an ending, single authorship, genre and expectation are done away with. A writers’ relay, the story is a continually developing work of writing, with contributors offering the next
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Dead Man talking Reading time: about 5 minutes Old Szymon Parker died while flower petals whirled themselves into soft gray pools of rain. I called him Creaky. He only left his apartment Sunday mornings to drink coffee and smoke on the patio at the diner on 2nd Avenue. In the winters, when he couldn’t smoke
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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
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.
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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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
