A retelling of the ancient myth of Ariadne, told in Ariadne’s own words. The stories whose endings we think we know so well are so rarely what really happened.
...
This is an appeal against the decision of the Citizens’ Health Commissioner (‘the Commissioner’) to refuse to grant a licence under Section 20 of the British Rights Act (‘the Act’).
...
That’s not my name, but I tell you it is. I have no idea why.
...
“Even if you can’t recollect it, dying alters your perspective; you live a life less attached, more forward-looking. We’re all destined to die; it’s just that some have died already.”
...
Here Lies Steven Fulton
Beloved Brother, Uncle, Friend
...
A surreal exploration into nature and the toll of isolation, posing the question – what happens when we distance ourselves from our own bodies?
...
A love story, as new waves of disease ravage the future
...
“So you know, the theatre is haunted,” the bar back said.
...
The simple story of a relationship between a woman and a man
...
One night a towering monster with eyes of coal and claws of jet black rock and skin like the stony ground itself stumbles into a village.
...
It is among the most hopeless of clichés, yet not without its certain bleak pointedness, to speak of time in a bar as having, in some way, stalled – the ...
Perched in the cloister walk, two monks sat deciding what Heaven looked like.
...
I loved him, up until that third bourbon. He was such a fucking amazing person but jesus he was a mean drunk.
...
A broken family and a peeping tom.
...
We hired him to paint our shopfront. A story about work, and loss.
...
She’d been lying awake since the crack of dawn, watching the sunrise creeping through the side of her curtains.
...
We decided to build the den from all that we could forage from the forest. The one that breathed down the back of our house.
...
World’s Fair, Paris, summer of 1900: we’ve arrived from two dozen countries. Nine hundred ninety-nine women with a single fever dream.
...
Amidst this evening’s homeward rush two figures are motionless, one seated on the outer edge of the bridge’s parapet, legs dangling over the sheer drop, the other standing beside him, ...
He was angry online, on Twitter and Facebook, and he was angry at work. He was angry at home when he was with his wife and kids, a boy and ...