A text received in the middle of the night from an anonymous telephone number. UNREAD LEGEND by Den Ghostliven. The hardback possesses...

LING CHI by Steven Holding. A neon sign fizzles. BLUNT CULTS. Scissors snip, hair’s sheared, small talk shared; this barbershop does its...

Thought I had a parking ticket. But it was just this, folded up and stuck to my windscreen in a cellophane envelope. Silver, Not Gold by...

Discovered this poem. Scrawled in felt tip pen. Upon the middle section of my toilet roll, as I was taking a shit. LIFE JACKET by Den...

LIFEFORCE (SEVEN STORIES : A POSTSCRIPT) BY STEVEN HOLDING.   Traditions. Heroism. The will to survive. Every year, without fail, days...

The narrowing of hours as times arrow flies … Endangered Guerrillas by Steven Holding. The jungles edge. Camouflaged shadows emerge,...

Scratched into the frost of my frozen car windscreen. I managed to decipher, transcribe and capture it before it melted away like...

Found this disturbing message, scrawled upon a slightly soiled napkin, folded up and tucked into my front right breast pocket after...

THE BARE FACTS by Steven Holding. Is it safe to shave a beast? Of the jobs the circus sideshow offers, prepping the pig-faced women’s the...

X-Mask by Steven Holding. Listen: tinsel, lists. Tin soldiers, stollen. Writing a white yuletide that no longer exists; stolen, lost....

HIPPY CHRIS METH! By Den Ghostliven. Chris limped towards the twenty-fifth, half-pints of bitterness fuelling blasphemous thoughts: JC’s...

Any regular visitors to the site (it’s nothing to be ashamed of you know, no matter what people might say or what dirty looks are fired...

HOW LEAN by Den Ghostliven. Cut yourself a razor-thin slice. Spiced squash pie; a family recipe, more ancient than paganistic Samhain....

Keen to crank things up a little. With that in mind, here’s a little scribble…. LEFT UNTURNED by Steven Holding. 1986 (10) Dave’s a lippy...

PSSSSST! PFFFFFFF! BANG! PSSSSST! PFFFFFFF! BANG! PSSSSST! PFFFFFFF! BANG! A few more examples of my flash fiction, tiny fireworks and...

“If I knew where the good songs came from, I’d go there more often.” LEONARD COHEN Bank Holiday. Chucking down. Down King Chuck. Whaddya...

Like Linkavitch “Link” Chomofosky, I have finally managed to thaw out and escape from a monolithic block of ice, inside of which I have...

HUMAN REMAINS: A HALLOWEEN TALE by Den Ghostliven. The name of the city’s uncertain: the address of the residence information you’re...

The Angle of the Angels Anger by Steven Holding. For Spen Never mind the fact that we stood upon sticky rickety stages jamming a racket...

2:25 by Steven Holding. It’s late. Or early. I’m awake. Phone rings. I answer. It’s her. Softly crying. “What’s wrong?” No reply. Door...