Neil Gaiman’s Free Short Stories. Down to a Sunless Sea by Neil Gaiman. The Thames is a filthy beast: it winds through London like a snake, or a sea serpent.
Fiction: A Short History of Hairdressing. The story follows Gregory through haircuts at three different stages of his life.
[I] Gregory, without his mother, goes to the barber shop in the new suburb he has recently moved to. He wonders whether the tortures he is subjected to at barbers' hands are universal. He requests: "Short-back-and-sides-with-a-little-bit-off-the-top-please. ". Story: Marina Warner’s ‘After the Fox’ Story: Marina Warner’s ‘After the Fox’ photo by Proper Dave.
Another « Five Chapters. By A.L.
Kennedy They’d considered the child and kept themselves circumspect. For her sake they had been in love, but quietly. Angela had lost a father, she was only eight, she would need stability and to feel herself the centre of attention for a while. Lynne had been clear about this from the start — her daughter should be allowed time to adjust. Sun by D.H. Lawrence. The Not-Dead and the Saved.
Read the remarkable short story that has now won both the BBC National Short Story and VS Pritchett awards, as first published in Prospect Image, above, by Jonathan Williams www.jonathanwilliams.co.uk On 7th December, Kate Clanchy’s “The Not-Dead and the Saved”—published in the December issue of Prospect, and now free to read on our website—was awarded the BBC National Short Story Award.
This is the second major award it has won this year, having already won the 2009 VS Pritchett Memorial Prize. Prospect co-founded the National Short Story Award, and has published work from the many of its previous winners and shortlisted authors. This year’s VS Pritchett prize marked the first year of a collaboration between Prospect and the Royal Society of Literature, which has organised the VS Pritchett prize since 1999. The Seraph and the Zambesi. You may have heard of Samuel Cramer, half poet, half journalist, who had to do with a dancer called the Fanfarlo.
But, as you will see, it doesn't matter if you have not. He was said to be going strong in Paris early in the nineteenth century, and when I met him in 1946 he was still going strong, but this time in a different way. He was the same man, but modified. The Interns (2007) Brothers and sisters, we, the interns, are united at last.
We stand shoulder to shoulder, our poorly-fitting new suits rubbing up against each other, causing static. But we don’t care, because soon the power structure will start to crumble. The end of our struggle is in sight! The Culture House. I always thought it was a mistake for Nicky to go and live at the Gow House.
I didn't mention it to anyone. What would I have said? It wasn't as if I had any concrete objections. Besides, everyone else was so excited. It was a prestigious residency, a chance for a painter to live and work where Gow had lived and worked, six months of peace and financial security. The Maestro's Loss (2012)
Hari Kunzru. " 'void', 'nothingness', a symbol of brahman and nirvanam... the unifying point of indifference and the matrix of the All and the None" Very soon my corpse will be ashes, the substance of my heart, my hands, my eyes and brain swept upwards in a reek of ghee and sandalwood.
I can imagine this event. I can imagine its aftermath, the particles of my body tumbling over the land in the hot weather. Short story: Beyond The Pleasure Principle by Hari Kunzru. The Good Cop: a short story by Magnus Mills. The first time he came into the room I thought he had a rather preoccupied look about him.
It was as if his mind was fully engaged in trying to solve some formidable problem, one that had been imposed upon him by powers beyond his control. Goodbye, Mother by Hanif Kureishi - Short Story. If you think the living are difficult to deal with, the dead can be worse. This is what Harry's friend Gerald had said. The remark returned repeatedly to Harry, particularly that morning when he had so wearily and reluctantly got out of bed.
It was the anniversary of his father's death. Whether it was seven or eight years, Harry didn't want to worry. Hilary Mantel: Comma. I can see Mary Joplin now, in the bushes crouching with her knees apart, her cotton frock stretched across her thighs. In the hottest summer (and this was it) Mary had a sniffle, and she would rub the tip of her upturned nose, meditatively, with the back of her hand, and inspect the glistening snail-trail that was left. We squatted, both of us, up to our ears in tickly grass: grass which, as midsummer passed, turned from tickly to scratchy and etched white lines, like the art of a primitive tribe, across our bare legs. Sometimes we would rise together, as if pulled up by invisible strings. Parting the rough grass in swaths, we would push a little closer to where we knew we were going, and where we knew we should not go.
An exclusive short story by Booker-winner Hilary Mantel. September: when she began to lose weight at first, her sister had said, I don't mind; the less of her the better, she said. It was only when Morna grew hair – fine down on her face, in the hollow curve of her back – that Lola began to complain. David Mitchell: Muggins Here. A proper mental Saturday it is, what with New Sue off with her hernia and the Lukes of Hazzard gone AWOL, so Muggins Here'll have to cover for everyone else's break. David Nicholls Every Good Boy. The Maestro's Loss, by Hari Kunzru. Every detail of that afternoon is engraved on my memory, as if marked there by the instrument itself.
Jennifer Egan To Do. Before_their_very_eyes_clare_wigfall.pdf (application/pdf Object)