All posts by adhksfbxcCXCVS

The silent killer

Words by James North Artwork by Lucy Pearce He was going to be fired. There was no doubt about it now in Charlie’s mind. Five meagre months into the job, this was to be his first and last business trip as junior menswear buyer for Juju & Mace. It wasn’t his fault, he protested to…

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In my place

Words by Kate van der Borgh Artwork by Matt Baxter     From: tom.higson@gmail.com To: brendan.harris@lhg.com Mate, I’m in. It’s a shithole. I hoped my landlady might be too batty to realise what she can legitimately charge in North London, but I think she got wind of my status as Bastard Ex-Husband and put her…

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Ghosts, ghouls and growing up

If, like me, your childhood bookshelves were studded with Dean Koontz and Stephen King, you might enjoy this article from the Guardian. It explores why we, as children and adults, are drawn to the things that scare us. I can definitely remember one particularly wet British holiday with my parents, made bleaker by my brand…

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The Hollow

Words by Tessa Sheridan Artwork by Mark Noad Time has passed, but how much time? You are older. I am old. We have walked these high Alps all our lives. But that day I walked alone. I remember a cold clamminess to the morning air, a sour metallic smell in my nostrils. I was young…

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Nobody knew she was there

Words and artwork by Tony Clarke It’s not bad weather. For October. For Scotland. Just mizzle-damp. Not busking weather, though. That poor wee girl singing at the entrance to the pedestrian underpass must be chilled right through. Couples stroll past, too absorbed in each other to acknowledge her efforts. I feel obliged to. There but…

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Out of the frying pan

Words and artwork by Roisin Clarke I see Susie’s playing with that doll again. Hang on, my mistake – mannequin. An old drawing mannequin, from before my time. Thought Kat had torched it before the move, with the rest of all that old stuff from before. Grimacing slightly, I pick at a hitched loop on…

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The Devil always wears red

Words by Duncan Mackay Artwork by Rebecca Mackay-Roberts   “You are my property. I own you and all your sordid thoughts. I travel in dimensions and densities that your feeble half-brains could not understand. I move in planes that touch everything, everywhere and at all times. I slip with ease between time and timelessness. You…

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Left unexpectedly

Words by Rebecca Dowman Artwork by Jill Hopper     It was dusk and raining hard when they found Triora – or it found them. Maybe that was why they failed to pick up the signs. Relieved to see the town lights after being so hopelessly lost on the zigzagging mountain roads, they drew up outside…

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I will wait…

Words by Vivien Jones Artwork by Hazel Lowther     I have watched the machines come closer each month watched the great chimneys topple, the slate roofs slide, and then crash to the ground. I have seen the dust clear and reveal what remains of a demolished house after the machines have gone. They are…

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She left a record

Words by Steph Smith Artwork by Kev Smith     31st August, 6.30pm. Dear James, This morning I found a mouse outside my door. It was lying on its back, stiff with rigor mortis, its feet sticking up in the air like it was waving at me. I picked it up and held it out…

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