How To Write Badly Well

The last of the suns ray’s are fading as the boy’s walk with slow and heavy step’s toward’s their homes’. ‘The day’s are getting longer,’ ...

Penny, thirty-three, beautiful and neighbourly, was trying to hold back tears as she pegged out the washing, which she did every Tuesday an...

O! My wailing heart! My quaking soul! My wailing, quaking heart-soul! Now the void of empty voidness opens before me and is empty like ...

Alan picked up his slice of toast and bit into it thoughtfully. The crescent shape left by his teeth was like a smaller version of the shar...

Wha’ an’ ha’ summit oder t’ nessle, blothen. An’ thar fudur hibitza an’took! Fla booter ’eth snine? Naggle ta, po’ o’ lo’ sho’. An tho’? An...

The hat, old and disillusioned, sat on Leo’s head like a passenger on a bus which is not only late, but has forgotten which route it was su...

It all began in the summer of 2003. At least, I think it did – I was on holiday at the time, but when I got back, I heard that Lisa and Pen...

He burst into the room. ‘So it was you all along.’ ‘Yes, that’s right.’ ‘You were behind the whole thing!’ ‘Not quite. You see, it was ...