Joanna writes short stories and flash fiction, has had her work published in a number of magazines and anthologies. She lives in London with her ever growing collection of Brooches.
The taxi draws up at an industrial blue box. Out of place in this country of mountains, clean air and cuckoo clocks. We are greeted. They call themselves escorts. Not your usual kind. We are here to be processed. I am here – to support – to bear witness. This is your choice. Papers to…
One of the wheels catches on a paving stone, the Zimmer frame lurches to the left into the gutter. Tom tugs to dislodge it. A discarded crisp packet entangling itself in the spokes. He found the Zimmer frame in a rubbish bin round the back of the hospital. He spent two hours cleaning it and…
In Samoa they skipped Friday 30th December 2011. If I skipped Friday, I would miss the day I go to work on the bus. My husband has the car on Fridays. He meets his mates after work, they go bowling. He does the driving, he doesn’t drink these days. Taking the bus means I am…
Original Susan Tate Illustration by Michael N Green Susan Tate entered Canterbury Cathedral through the south doors. People had come from all over the county for the carol service. Above her, spotlights illuminated the intricate vaulted stone roof, picking out the richly painted bosses. Down the side aisles the brass candelabra glinted, throwing out…
I had the house to myself, Jemma and Fiona were at school and Tom was still away with his regiment. This was our first home, we’d been married for ten years but always lived in quarters – adequate, but no matter how hard I’d tried they’d always felt like they belonged to someone else. “I…
One small lamp pinpoints light directly onto the keyboard, the monitor gives out an eerie glow – the rest of the room is in darkness. The only sound, tip tap tip tap as the keys are hit repeatedly, the index and middle fingers on each hand as accurate as any touch typist. His head does…
Opening the door I gaze at the gleaming white tiles. Their starkness and cleanliness reassures me. I am glad I chose this flat with its oversized bathroom. After months away – in a small room with only a minute utilitarian shower cubicle to wash in, it’s good to be home. I had almost forgotten how…
Oh honestly TS, how did you do that? Another nasty gash, I don’t know – you’ve been in a fight haven’t you? I’ve told you before not to mess around with the neighbours, that Eliot next door plays rough. You’ll have to go down to the surgery. I am not having it getting infected like…
The bell rattled as Carol opened the door. Inside, the teashop was dimly lit but not in a gloomy way. In one corner stood a stove. It gave off a crimson and orange glow which warmed the whole interior. If she squinted she could make out five or six tables. As her eyes became accustomed…
Saturday, 23rd June, no footie to watch. Homework all done, except geography, but can knock that off on Sunday night. Binoculars & camera, check. Notebook & pencil, check. Sun glasses & base-ball cap, check. Corn beef and gherkin sandwich, cheesy quavers, hard-boiled egg (unpeeled), packet wine gums, apple (no bananas, Mum forgot to buy any…
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Text & stories © Joanna Sterling
Stories © various authors
Editing by Joanna Sterling & Alyson Faye
Audio by Menna Bonsels
Brooch photography by Mark Colliton
Website by Brighton WEBtech