Genre: Fiction

I was living in a box room in a two up, two down in a northern town. Each day I would walk to work at the café, past a nun who pushed a mower across a tiny, withered strip of …

The dulse lay dry and ample on the flats beside the sea, and the tall girl’s mother had caught a tenday’s worth of mackerel, but the tall girl was still sad.

“What’s wrong?” asked the tall girl’s mother, holding a …

I attended two different schools after primary school. At one of them, there were lots of strange occurrences: a body was once found by the school’s main door, which opened onto the cluster of houses built into the hillside to …

Always, the light from the holes in the aluminum roof woke Namanya. After a moment of nothingness, she felt the ache in her back, turned in bed, and came to herself. Her back was urging her to stop bending over …

The only evil consists instead in the decision to remain in a deficit of existence, to appropriate the power to not-be as a substance and a foundation beyond existence, or rather (and this is the destiny of morality), to regard …

The dog’s name was Junk, but Grandmother wanted him to be called Grey-hound. In the end, when she was around, we just said “Dog,” but she insisted on calling him “Greyhound, Greyhound,” pronouncing the name as if to train him—and …

“All I ask is that you behave,” Roman says as he gets ready to step out. 

“Please.” 

He is a new lecturer with a one-year contract in the Slavic Studies Department at Alabama University, which has tasked him with coordinating …

Men are coming to take Mom’s bed. 

Her quilts and blankets and sheets and throws are covered with cigarette burn holes. I strip the bed and fill four big black garbage bags and cram them in her closet whose door …