They hold hands on the Clipper as the tour guide drones on about pirates and the heyday of the East India Company, a soft voice drifting through a hazy sky. “So many warehouses,” Jamal murmurs, grey buildings hunched over the grey Thames. “They used to be warehouses,” Agnieszka says, her head resting on his shoulder. … More Cargo


She had been waiting at Heathrow airport for the last thirty minutes. She didn’t mean to show up this early, and technically she didn’t. Arrive early that is. Glancing upwards at the flight departures and arrivals boards for what felt to be about the fortieth time in the past five minutes, she noticed that his … More Delayed


I helped two Americans with directions the other day. They embodied the role of lost tourists with full force. I spotted them when I jumped on the escalator and had surmised their confusion by the time my descent was complete. When I saw one of them rotating the map 360 degrees, staring blankly, I removed … More Lost

Under Construction

Rachel Fallon is an aspiring playwright living in London, originally from Manchester. She also enjoys writing short stories.   


She was a good pleaser. She was a good smiler. She was a good anything any woman was supposed to be good at. But she was also a good something no one had ever thought she could be good at. She was a good man. Emily Glass took out her exquisite leopard Manolo Blahniks, and … More Themself

Snippets of Summer

The prison of mankind is the mind This is the only space where time exists If I had any super power I’d make it stop Just for this second Just for this now Where the moon looks luminescent And just for this moment When I remember that I am simply being Consciously breathing And though … More Snippets of Summer

Extracts from Anthelion

Anthelion, 1996 I It is where I am gone, where I am in nothing placed entombed in another world alive with beguiling thoughts of memory and distaste and as guilty as these thunder clouds, it is where I am gone that holds my mind and makes this time a misery as less than useless now… … More Extracts from Anthelion


A storm woke me up very early in the morning. I could say it was early as I couldn’t smell coffee, but the skies were already lit up. I stretched my arm towards the bedside table to get my watch and check the time, but I couldn’t find it. Maybe I left it in the … More Intoxicated


Coffee Capitalism National Park Simon Bracken is an experimental writer, of poetry and fiction and things in between. He’s originally from London and writes a lot about the city.   


I Want My Time With You (At St. Pancras Station, London) He put his hands Around her waist And said so lovingly: “I want my time with you.” She put her hands On his cold cheeks, Looking deeply into his eyes, As if looking for some sign, That his words are true. The clock struck … More Poems

The View

Along the river they walked. Two souls in sync with one another. They stared at the unmistakable London skyline they couldn’t take their eyes off it. Waiting for nine o’clock to come they explored the city. Starting at the London Eye watching it stare down on them. Like the eyes of God, it stared. They … More The View

Transparent Stones

I thought that walking down the Thames path I would send away the desire to catch the infinite blue of the sea combined with the kind breeze of a summer day. Unfortunately, the grey colour of the river did not help me too much. Here and there, occasionally some seagulls were playing with the wild … More Transparent Stones

Untitled; Marcuse, in Eros and Civilization; Mashed Potatoes

Untitled I step out into the dusk, clutching a cup of cold steeped tea in one hand, a black zip up hoodie in the other. I settle on cement steps, startled by their persistent heat collected from the cloudless day in late July. They warm my butt through holy jeans. I am stoop-sitting, waiting for … More Untitled; Marcuse, in Eros and Civilization; Mashed Potatoes