Fiction

Written By: Eleanor Keisman A fragrant breeze drifted over me just as the pregnant woman passed by. I like to imagine it was her I was smelling.

Written By: D.S. Burton Mar. 8, 1885. DEAR NESSIE, I apologise for writing late. I have been bound to the bathroom for some days, which, might I add, is terribly mouldy, cold, and resides in the basement where water leaks from the foundation of this shack of a house.

Written By: Aleksa Krkeljas I’ve been a sleepwalker for years.  I am deep in the woods. It’s cold and pitch-black. An owl stares at me from a branch, while its companion in the distance lets out a succession of hoots.

Written By: Nicole Zelniker There are no missing posters on the walls of the bar, no indication that girls vanish from here without a trace.

Written By: Ashley Mina The job was simple. The Mongan family was out of town for the next three nights and the family’s locks were standard, easy enough to pick.

Written By: Jacquie Wilson No one remembers her name. Her real name anyway. She was a girl once- a regular girl, a good girl- who worked as a harlequin for her family's tiny traveling show.