When the Universe Spoke
The end did not arrive like a thunderbolt. It arrived gradually. That was its great cruelty. By the time the Hydrated understood that Thelba was dying, the planet had been dying for generations.…
Europe writes itself. Again. And we are thrilled to have you here to read it.
Money, Money, Money
In a quiet, still green clearing within the forest, the animals decided to abandon the barter system. Bartering was tedious, especially for Barney the Badger, who was tired of lugging forty sacks of pinecones to the lake just to buy a single jar of river trout from the Observant Otters.…
Hard Times of Underground Story-Smuggling
For their own protection, the members adopted codenames taken from characters in…
The Cigar That Fell in Love With a Pipe
What happens when two different objects fall in love? The Cigar That…
The Barista God
He bought single-origin beans from places he couldn’t even spell. He bought a small digital scale to weigh his grounds to the nearest tenth of a gram, and began describing his morning shot as having “notes of sun-dried hazelnut and a whispered promise of blueberry.”…
The 365 Bank Holiday Republic
Every morning at dawn, the Great Tower of Folios sounds its bells. The number of rings indicates the page number of the year, and a massive banner is unfurled over the capital city, announcing the day’s celebration.…
My Alpha Reader
I took a photo of him today, right in the middle of an intense brainstorming session next to my keyboard. Look at that intellectual gaze, those wide, supportive eyes, and that vibrant, unmistakable neon complexion.…
The Art of Writing in the Dark
In the spirit of Jorge Luis Borges, Umberto Eco, or Italo Calvino, one might say: “The history of literature is the history of authors trying to convince readers that the dark does not exist, while secretly being terrified of what is hiding in it.”…
The Potato Eaters
There was no trace of poetry in their lives, no grand romances or golden sunsets that weren’t immediately followed by the dread of tomorrow’s labour.…
The Parable of the Prodigal Sun
A star called Sol suddenly emerged from the computer screen without the slightest warning. ‘You might have knocked,’ muttered the writer, at last lowering his gaze towards the blindingly bright orb. Then, extending his left hand, he carefully adjusted the cosmic thermostat. He offered the star a cushioned chair, a…
Chapter XIII: The Edge of the Palette
The bristles of the brush were stiff, caked with the dried residue of colours Oscar could no longer see, and, if one were being entirely honest, they had never actually existed. He sat in the centre of the studio…
A Typo in the Pavement
Twelve minutes before midnight. The grand old clock in the spire didn’t tick. The sound was a heavy thudding resonance, like a munch. The mechanism swallowed the seconds whole, leaving behind a gelatinous silence that pooled around my ears. I reached into my coat pocket for a cigarette but pulled…
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Muppets on the Muppet Show tonight
The tension is personified by Statler and Waldorf, the two elderly cynics perched permanently in the box seats. They are the ultimate…
Books of Our Continent
From the quiet shelves of forty-four national archives and ancient university libraries to the cosy corners of independent bookstores and modest home…
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