The Wells Street Journal is a publication by the students of the MA in Creative Writing at the University of Westminster. It is a diverse collection of writing with London as our inspiration.
Mistake is my last name. Called me trouble. A prophet without church. A terrorist in the house of God. A mistake shaped by nature. Love revolution, evolution without love. Love me … More Called Me Trouble by Juan Rios
Pronouns exist to describe me But I am embodied in the endocrine rhythms of the river Inclusive in every hand that reaches out to the beat of the march I cannot be explained away as only … More Transgender by Karim Harvey
by Kri Dennett The Tyburn Tree in Marble Arch marks the spot where witches dropped. Women hexed by desperate men who hunted them for games and pence. In 1621, Winchmore Hill, an offering was found; Elizabeth Sawyer, said to be possessed by Tom the demonic hound. She refuted the claims and stood her ground. A … More Truths of Tragedy
by Hamour Baika The first time I accidentally came to look at the world’s most famous clock, it took away my breath. Not because I was awe struck. Rather, I found it hard to breathe as I tried to swallow my sobs. I was tired. And hungry. And cold. I’d come to London to go … More Etant SDF
by Ali Mulaga So I’m standing on this bus crouched next to the door, anonymous in a sea of commuters. My headphones are on at full blast so as to annoy the poor sardines next to me (kidding– I just like my bass loud). It’s so typical, the buses are full, the trains are … More Hollow People
by Namya Naresh When people say the world works in mysterious ways, my inner voice laughs out loud. Yes, it very literally laughs in my head vibrating throughout my body. Because I do not believe that is true. At least I didn’t. I’d say it took me on a journey. But that just sounds stupid … More Consolation
by Harriet Weston The platform was cold and empty, just as I liked it. No distractions. No delays. With my feet planted firmly, I waited. 3, 2, 1… Soft rumblings forewarned the tube’s arrival. The doors opened to a partially filled carriage, the commuters segregated within their own pods, and a metallic voice … More The Commuter
by Naseema Khanom Wash Friday, 9 o’clock, Jummah, Mile End Station. In pendulum style, Imran crosses the dotted borders of Mile End to West Ham on the regular to get to his shop. The morning sea of serious faces wash over him, as he skids across the tiled floor in a rush to get to … More Joe the Barber
by Tara Murray Hampstead Heath. Two simple words, but something that was completely unknown to her, until a few days ago. When thinking of London, her mind always went to Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, and Big Ben. She had never heard of Hampstead Heath before. Someone had mentioned it to her in passing, nothing … More There’s no Place like Home
by Emily Rath She wears a cape of winter grey draped over her shoulders bare they call her Prim bow to dance her suitors unaware, of victims past and lovers gone regarding false identity, mounting her in cold dominion riding her absentmindedly. A path is laid with daffodils heads heavy from winter rain, would you … More The Knoll
by John Philip Gethring The camera shivers through a quiet touch of eye contact shuttering a fracture of time’s square-ness. In it, friends dress tastefully gross formed to styles … More Travel Joy
by Wayne Goodman “Nice day for a picnic.” I looked up into the face of a middle-aged gentleman with noticeable sags under his steely-blue eyes made more obvious as he had bent at the waist. That toothy grin seemed amicable enough, but those mutton chops had significant amounts of grey and much of the hair … More Nice Day for a Picnic
by Rachel Fallon As the sirens wailed And the bombs fell across the capital They hastily gouged out the precious gemstones And hid them deep beneath Windsor Castle Returned to their refuge within the soil of the earth … More The Biscuit Tin
by Bob Boyton Arlington House, Camden Town 1982 – You’d have been hard put to it to see the place and think it could ever be golden although Madness got one of their best songs out of it – ‘One Better day.’ Built in 1905 Arlington was the last of Lord Rowton’s Rowton Houses, offering … More Arlington House
by Namya Naresh Gravitation and gratification, ruled their bodies like pendulums they swung, back and forth The lines of the city were masters of their souls. The lines of the city were the creators of their homes. Redundancy, hypocrisy, autonomy ‘What’s mine is yours, Honey!’ They lied to one another. ‘Life is good,’ they lied … More Snowflake
by Bob Boyton 1 The hostel want more ID off me than old bill need to put you away for three years but I tell ‘em I’ll be a good boy and get loved up with my key worker in the morning so they book me into a double. After that they keep me hanging … More Freedom Train
By Kristian Dennet Sophia watched the audience as the curtain slowly fell. Like a shop awkwardly closing its shutters for the night. The faces in the audience only looked in one direction; all eyes on Rene, the venerated star of the show. As Sophia wondered why that couldn’t be her, a hand grabbed out and … More The Starring Role
by Naseema Khanom I spy on the neighbour’s garden an apple tree, six foot three with perfect ripe reds and greens growing towards the heavens. Every spring without fail doctors, lawyers and pharmacists blossom on every stem. It is a mighty sight to behold roots so strong, resilient the rich soil, bountiful. The good … More Family Tree
by Sajidah Iqbal I want to make a home here, it’s just that, I don’t know how to go about it. I wonder if it would be easy to do it all over again; to carve my name on the bark of the new trees, that don’t recognize me or leave my footprints on the … More Recipe for Home
By John Philip Gething Homesick Blue It is that sense of home, that almost grieving addiction for a place. Stitched into the fabrics, sewn to its walls that drip a color of youth. Like vines. Veins. We painted the walls pinstriped Blue when we moved in. american yankees. I was seven years old. Would have … More Homesick Blue
