Julia Webb

      Yearnings StJohns won’t let the crowlight in, only sparrowbeams and antdark. StJohns is over-alive with noise – day and night, it never stops. Owlish stuffs her ears with balled-up toilet paper, buries her head under the sofa cushions. Dadward’s...

Sarah L Dixon

      The Tuesday the world changed for aardvarks I never liked rain. And today it raged. Flooded into the sand that is our bed. It drenched the warm corners where I cuddle with Bert away from daylight. The ants ran from it and I was unable to resist...

Jennie E. Owen

      The Rose Queen Even now, looking at the photos I cannot see myself there, on the edges heels on the curb, with my sister, watching the queens on walking day take a lead behind the mounted police. The brassed bands, the drums the beat and blow of...