Image by Jörg Peter from Pixabay “Positive visualization is the thing,” said her sister. “Imagine yourself wandering carefree along the beach. Slim, svelte, toned. Keep the picture firmly in your mind, see it every day. It’ll happen soon enough.” “Yeah, right,” replied Minnie, sceptically. “Yes. Even Monica swears by it.” “Monica? What on earth does she want to…
Image by Jörg Peter from Pixabay Snatches of the Isley Brothers filter through the cafe’s open door. Sitting with her Americano, ‘Who’s That Lady?’ stealthily absorbs her mind conjuring discos, heat and heartache. Sixth-form disco, twelve-thirty. Hall curtains closed against the strong summer sun, windows open for the faint breeze. Sweaty teenagers, ties pulled free, top buttons of…
The quality of the envelope dropped a big fat hint to Hilary, that there might be something of interest inside its tactile creamy-coloured layers. This was an envelope that had been sealed using a damp sponge, definitely no tongues involved in the procedure, and finished off with a little blue butterfly sticker covering all the…
Brenda sat at the kitchen table gazing ruefully at the tatty piece of paper in her hand. The annual spring clean underneath the fridge had yielded the usual variety of mouldy peas, fridge magnets and important reminders that the former items were supposed to keep fixed in place. This particular note announced her New Year’s…
The devil’s children live behind big black gates and high stone walls girdled with barbed wire. Seven days a week they work, no clocks, silence enforced. Isolated from the world, windows barred with steel, kept separate from each other to prevent contagion. Behind the heavy, brown door – always locked – it’s airless and hotter…
The hook was two foot through the letterbox before I clocked the old geezer. I’d been aiming for the keys. I always go for the keys. With a key, you can let yourself in nice and quiet-like, pick up wallets and iPhones and anything else you take a fancy to, on the hall table, or…
Gerry thought the mid November was a ridiculously early time for Santa to arrive, but he kept his own counsel. This was his second year as the Maryhill Shopping Centre Santa and he was glad of the work. He’d had a couple of days to supervise the construction of the grotto, sort out the presents…
Original Susan Tate Illustration by Michael N Green A sudden gust of wind caught Susan’s hat and it flew across the car park. She ran after it, hoping the cars coming in would not crush it under their wheels. With a swift movement she retrieved it and placed it back on her head, taking…
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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