Short Stories
The body ever changes.
We press our lashes together, tangled up like blackberry bushes — Where does one end and the other begin?
Thoughts and Stories...
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Visual Poetry
Terror!
She's been trampled and crossed feather-tossed into a bed of shards, bleaching white as a wedding and just as lifeless
A Desk of One's Own
We write on laptops, most of us. I still prefer to write down ideas on paper first, but most of my writing is typing, still. There's nothing magical about having a flat, elbow-height surface to prop your work on, preferably in front of a window with a
Snippets
Preview: The Cargo
If the ship were a person, she’d have been a pock-marked whore drifting soberly through the streets, ankle-deep in mess and barefoot. She met every judgmental eye with scorn as if to say, ‘That’s not all.’
Short Stories
After the end, the thorns will fall
Winner of the 2026 My Fair Lighthouse fiction competition Eon gasped awake into the icy morning. The frost had seeped under the tent flap, claiming the air warmed by his breath, and leaving a stinging rind under his nose. He scrubbed it away with a coarse sleeve and yawned, cracking
