Hugo Westcombe, from the age of fourteen, wanted to write the next Great American novel after reading an article in…
Mrs. Garacetti was tiny, angular, with a grim set mouth. A severe, featherless bird. Her dress was navy blue and…
‘Goodbye’ you said to me. ‘Go to hell,’ you said to me. ‘I would rather burn in hell myself than…
They were born five years apart. He took pride in being the big brother. At six, he held her in…
So we’re all like just sitting down to lunch and this new girl rolls up to the table and asks…
And wasn’t he such a sissy. That’s what his Daddy told him. Drunk and tripping over words in his mouth…
Four hundred and eighty-five days. Five hours. I’m counting. I might be wrong. I measure it with my sleep. When…
It was Friday afternoon and the office was almost empty. ‘Let’s have a quickie in the stationary cupboard,’ Sue suggested.…
I have no story to tell. Nothing has ever happened to me. I was born in the spring to loving…
Welcome to The Factory. This is where you will all be spending your remaining days. The rules are simple, follow…