Iain Bonner

My black suitcase came around the corner of the baggage carousel slumped on its side. I was in yet another new place. Yet another new start. 

Jac Rowe

You’re wrong, you moron. Check the numbers again.’ 

I gaped at the budget spreadsheet, a mess of numbers swimming before tear-brimmed eyes. Blinking rapidly to clear my vision, I checked the entries and equations. 

‘Well, we’re fucked. Great work, Grace. You’ve really screwed us this time. You are so stupid. Well done.’ 

Violet Day-Joyce

My father is a lawyer. As a child I’d try to heft his legal tomes over my head, small arms trembling. The walls of text swarming his desk, his computer screen, were impenetrable.

Primrose Craig-Darroch

During summer, the city traps the warmth, it holds it; the concrete whispers, tickling you with its hot, sour breath, a heatwave halitosis. Light lingers, and we await the sweet relief of night.

DS Magrid

The crown of my head rises toward the heavens, bungee-spine releases, tailbone tucks under. One heel fits snugly into the other foot’s arch. Arms drift to breast level, the right curved, the left as if I’ve flicked a handkerchief. A foot slides out, then to the back, and anchors as my knees bend. Balanced torso – perfect prep – push off the back foot – arms whip – body revolves –