Two Shakes of a Lamb’s Tail- Jonathan Crockett

‘I’ll be there at 10 o’clock sharp, make sure you’re ready to go, okay?’ Terry would always arrive wearing a different cap, more than likely left behind by a passenger in the back of his taxi. At 1020am he would come round the corner at a leisurely speed, a disfigured taxi sign hanging precariously on… Continue reading Two Shakes of a Lamb’s Tail- Jonathan Crockett

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Creaking Pipes- Jonathan Crockett

It seemed everything was a self revealing cliché, and almost invariably it was true to the rule. ‘You know all those things the old boys say, those kind of half baked witticisms: ‘joke with a jag’ as they say. Well as you get older, you realise they’re all fucking true!’ He didn’t really talk like… Continue reading Creaking Pipes- Jonathan Crockett

Foxglove- Jane Austin

I Fox in socks. Hand shoes for ladies who lunch. II Digitalis purpuria I should not have ingested you. Acrid gelatine, with just a hint of cut grass, pound the petal door. III Gyroscopic flags singing in hedgerows. You laugh, dancing, Gemini rising, even when it rains. IV Purple pas de deux pirouetting on a… Continue reading Foxglove- Jane Austin

Ronnie Reagan and The Salmon of Knowledge- Will Fox

Joe Conroy was the last to arrive at The Bolted Horse. It was a fine pub, with nice oak furnishings, no young people and the cheapest pints in a twelve kilometre radius. The latter was most important as it was the only leg-up they had over O’ Donovan’s, the other pub in Ballyporeen, the place… Continue reading Ronnie Reagan and The Salmon of Knowledge- Will Fox

No Junk Mail- Darragh Ambrose

The trick was to find the groove and stay in it for as long as possible. A beautiful state of flow where nothing mattered except the flash of leaflet to letterbox. There were all sorts of letterbox. The wall-mounted ones were the best. Beautiful things that could be tackled with one hand. Others required the… Continue reading No Junk Mail- Darragh Ambrose

Hero- Oran McDonald

I never asked to be anything more. Thought that to myself bulleting down Filmore Street, the one on Grey Avenue. New one this time. Calls himself the scamp or something, maybe it was the shrew. These lads do be ratcheting out at an alarming rate these days, as if there’s a conveyor belt somewhere surrounded… Continue reading Hero- Oran McDonald

A Red Curtain Waved Out Through a Broken Window Frame.- Kevin McManus

James Madigan got out of the car and looked around. To his right he could see the imprints left where children had frolicked and carved out snow angels. The hollows left behind were starting to fill with fresh snow that whispered and capered as it descended upon the silent, frozen and calm earth. The flakes… Continue reading A Red Curtain Waved Out Through a Broken Window Frame.- Kevin McManus