Please go and buy this collection of short stories I edited. I don’t make any money from online sales but they help to keep the publisher going and pay the annual Ingram catalogue fees.
“I can just say read these wonderful wonderful stories. They were an absolute pleasure to read and I hope you too will enjoy these writers as much as I did.”
David Butler’s most recent short story collection is Fugitive (Arlen House, 2021). His novel City of Dis (New Island) was shortlisted for the Kerry Group…
It was a very good night. Apologies for overrunning the time. Thanks to everyone who came and to Katy Darby and Claire Lacey for bringing the stories to life. Couldn’t have done any of it without the support of Liars’ League and Brent Libraries.
The Willesden Short Story Prize 2022 was revealed at Willesden Library this evening. First prize went to “Hotline” byZakia Uddin (left).
Runners-up were “Vevey” by Catherine McNamara and “Cuckquean” by Jackie Morris.
Thanks to Claire Lacey and Katy Darby for bringing the stories to life and making the event go with a zing.
Thanks to Jarred McGinnis for judging and to the writers of all ten shortlisted stories, as every one is a prize-winner in this short story competition. (Ed.)
A MONTH OF SUNDAYS
The only time I'm with you is when you're not here.
Oh never let me see you, let's never meet again.
I can live for eternity on a dismal weekend
But time goes too fast in heaven.
The Mask of Love is an optical illusion- you can probably see one face there but look again and you can see two people kissing, your brain will switch and it might be hard to switch back to one single face pic.twitter.com/ZsVhSzQAYs
MS TUESDAY MUNDY, MOTHER OF TWO
Bright sun with dark clouds before thunder.
A long labour with twin girls on a Sunday,
First in sunlight, then in rain. No wonder
She called them Gloria and Dolores Mundy.
EVERY TIME IS THE LAST EVER
"We know not the hour"
How many more times will I walk downstairs
and what last things have I already seen?
The day before the night, the last round of the clock.
The year I went home, never to see Dublin again.
Our last Christmas dinner: that was it, no leftovers.
L’chaim! When we met in the pub in twenty-eighteen,
We shared those last embraces before the pandemic.
And the last poem I ever wrote, well is this it?
Photo: Bathmat towel with a random thread that looks like the number 78 on it.
The Stepping-Feet Illusion features two rectangles apparently moving like a pair of stepping feet, but they're actually moving at the same constant speed.
The illusion is broken when the striped texture is removed.
Stephen Moran's Museum of Illusions 
You must be logged in to post a comment.