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A Lesson for Mr. Pipps

Monika Brewster·December 29, 2023

A Lesson for Mr. Pipps written by: Monika Brewster The village is asleep, the schoolhouse silent. The...

Literature English

·2 mins read

The Ties of Christmas

Katie Stairs·December 22, 2023

The Ties of Christmas written by: Katie Stairs The soft thudding of a little girl’s footsteps down...

Christmas Featured Post English 12 Days of Christmas Literature

·14 mins read

K on Olivia 2

Michael McCarthy·November 7, 2023

When Olivia met K Chapter VI K on Olivia 2 written by: Michael McCarthy @FlateyeFiction - The wide open windows...

English Literature Featured Post Michael McCarthy When Olivia met K

·9 mins read

Photographic Memory

Ariti Jankie·July 21, 2023

Photographic Memory written by: Ariti Jankie Click. Barely three, gazing into a mirror, she shaped her future....

Poetry English

·1 min read

The Old Bard’s Tale

Henry Felerski·January 9, 2023

The Old Bard’s Tale written by: Henry Felerski Years ago, at this time of day he would...

English Literature

·5 mins read

Garor

Clive Grewcock·August 25, 2022

Garor written by: Clive Grewcock There is a suggestion that shadows cannot exist by swimming beneath the...

Poetry English Featured Post

·1 min read

Suman Pokhrel is a Nepali poet, lyricist, playwright, translator, and artist. He debuted in 1999 with a poetry collection and has since published works, including translations of Shakespeare and global poets. His poems are translated into many languages and taught across South Asia. A two-time SAARC Literary Awardee, he also received Asia’s Inspiring Poet Award and was named Author of the Month by Spillwords in June 2023. Beyond literature, he works as a freelance consultant in socio-economic research, rural development, entrepreneurial development and creative writing. He began his career in Nepal’s civil service and later worked with international NGOs. He holds degrees in Science, Law, Business Administration, and Economics.

Condoms by Seán Óg Ó Murchú

They all laughed at me. All the dinner ladies. It started with your one, I’m after forgetting her name now… Smelly Nelly’s ma. A wet little tear trickled toward her tattooed cheekbone. She was roaring red. Her harsh, wheezing laughter sounded like a black taxi tackling the Whiterock Road, her throat destroyed from all the fegs she used to be hoofing into her. She called over the other dinner ladies then, an army of them. Or maybe it was the curiosity of her horrid laughing that brought them over… I can’t remember.
“Tell the girls what you’re only after asking me there ni wee mawn.”
I looked between herself and the girls. Jesus Christ, I said in my own mind, Mental Mick is after stealing all my crayons that I’d been hoarding for myself there before the break...

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What is Your Preference?

Dear William

Liperature

storytelling

A Lesson for Mr. Pipps

The Ties of Christmas

K on Olivia 2

Photographic Memory

The Old Bard’s Tale

Garor

When The Jehovahs Knock

The Disturbance At The Bear Family Home

Song

Graduation

Love

Salty, Not Sweet

Taps on The Ceiling

The Art of Peeling an Egg

Dear Father

June Glory

Hidden Valley

My Father was a Farmer