Creative Writing

Words: Anaїs Silva (she/her) every time I hear this story, I remember being little and walking around that village with my mum and seeing her

Words by: Tom Cran (he/him) Despite it being a one-man army in the kitchen, everyone still fills up the cramped space, chatter of offering to

Words: Alice McCloskey (she/her) The lilies you gave me are rotting softly on my windowsill.As the light outside grows brighter,it ushers in the quiet whispering

Words: Julieta Garzón Campos (she/her) For GloriaTime envelops you like silk. There is silence, beneath the laughter. There is uncertainty as I tighten my fist.

Words: Isla Rose Perkins (she/her) I remember the smell hitting my nose  as soon as I stepped foot, in. A play for the senses to

Words: Isla Rose Perkins (she/her) Bail na cnoc – the village in the hills. You wean me onto your spells  Your calling power amongst plinths 

Words: Charlie Linton (she/her) With age, she has lost so much of what held her back. ‘Do not complain about growing old. It is a

Words: Martha Wright (she/her) I hope my memento does it justice, though I’m not sure anything could. The smoke, the lights, the friends, the lovers,

Words: Gemma Sawyer (she/her) You miss your own colours. You miss your own joy and love of life. You haven’t let anyone in for a

Words: Lara Fox (she/her) She would halt, a blank stare coming over her face, completely still, calibrating. I got quite scared in those moments, unsure

Words: Tom Cran (he/him) I write of the quiet, the conversations, and the people that made it the place I miss. A place not purified

Words: Iona McLean (she/her) The unicorn disna always glitter with innocence untouched; it is marked by time, by rain, by smoke, by hands that havena

Words: Rachel Currie (she/her) Pressed permanently against the cold corner of the classroom I watch as she brushes her hair – The steady experience of

Words: Anya Vasko (she/her)  CW: Rape and Sexual Assault Prelude. Eve and Mary  How foreign it must have been for Her  Eve To emerge not

Words: Lauren Maclaren (she/her) His old-man skin is pink like ham hock; his rucksack straps reach all the way round and clip in the front.