He continues with his toil but, at times, a black look overtakes him and it appears his heart is no longer in his work. What is there to do? Could what was once such a joy to him have become a burden?
The Weaver Of Balliguish Read More »
Again, I find myself walking down that particular stretch of pavement. It leads vaguely towards the centre of town. A place I haven’t been for many years. Not if I can help it in any case. Too many dangers. Too many…
An early morning walk Read More »
So it seems I’ve not posted on here for a while and having made it halfway through 2020 and finally managed to log back in it seems a good time to share a couple of pieces of news. Anthology 2 First up, I’m delighted to have a short piece featured in Prototype 2, the second issue
Prototype 2 / Unsound Methods Anakana Schofield Read More »
[excerpt from London Literary Review] …It can be argued that the entirety of human civilization has developed purely because of our ability to create those fictions which allow us to co-operate. The idea of an all powerful god, the ideas of nationhood and culture, the concepts of money and capitalism. These fictions are powerful but ultimately
Engineering New Language Read More »
(originally published in Hourglass Literary Magazine https://hourglassonline.org/news/modern-reading-by-lochlan-bloom) Credit: David Evers There is a group, let us call them the anti-fictionists, that proclaims the death of fiction. They call for an end to the make-believe, the fake, the imaginary. Who needs fiction, these anti-fictionists say, when there is the scientific method, progress, development. We may be
It has been known for several years now that slave traders are operating in this area but despite the best attempts of the police captain and his men it has proven impossible to catch any of them. Some people have blamed this on poor Captain Jacobs himself, suggesting he is corrupt, but this is unfair
It is calm, there are no puzzles, the parcel arrives. It is not so big, perhaps the size of your head. It is a box, a sturdy cardboard box. There is a stamp on it but the postmark is illegible. You pick it up. It is heavy. You shake it — it makes a hissing noise. You