Fiction & Poetry

You can’t cry in space

Richie Rich, The Bran-Man, the original Virgin, I know it’s been a while since I last saw you but I hope you’ll forgive me for skipping the pleasantries and going straight to the heart of the matter. You can’t cry in space. I learned that in Mr Frye’s science...

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Everything In Between by Joe Meno

Age of eighteen, my parents split on Christmas Eve. They had been separated for a year, got back together, struggled on. Dad pulled me aside and we sat down on my bed. He put a hand on my shoulder and said I hope you won’t hold it against me. I nodded and then shook...

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Christmas Chickens by Noah Cicero

When the boy awoke, the sun had not yet risen. The boy felt excited. Christmas Morning! He left the bed, he didn’t feel tired, he felt pure enthusiasm. He wanted to know what the presents were, he knew Santa had come. He knew Santa came from very far away to bring him...

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The story of how Rudolph got his red nose

“For heavens sake Klaus, stop coddling the little egg. He needs to learn to look after himself”,  Mama Juovla was chastising her eldest son as he tied his little brothers shoe laces for him for the thousandth time, not even bothering to try explaining the...

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Obscure Sorrows: Monachopsis

Monachopsis n. the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach – lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognise the ambient roar of your intended...

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Obscure Sorrows: Lachesisim

Lachesism – n. The desire to be struck by disaster—to survive a plane crash, to lose everything in a fire, to plunge over a waterfall—which would put a kink in the smooth arc of your life, and forge it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a...

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Obscure Sorrows: Onism

onism – n. the frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time. As described in The Dictionary Of Obscure Sorrows. It’s the warm coloured stone of Greek churches. It’s the restful aureate light that everything here...

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A break up letter to the moon

It all becomes so much clearer with a bit of distance. I was too close to see the truth before. I admired you from afar since I was 11 years old. Your glow, your mysterious beauty, your pull. How my heart gravitated towards you. I dreamed of conquering you and calling...

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The Novel Cure

Originally featured in The Saatchi Gallery’s Art & Music Magazine My mother taught me very early on that a life full of books equals a well insured soul, so I never have the slightest hesitation in recommending reading to friends who are in need of hopeful...

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