This story recently came second in the Bath Young Crime Writers Competition. My bare feet slap the pavement, puddles splashing up onto my legs. I abandoned my heels a few streets back, and I left my coat at the club, leaving my shoulders and neck exposed. So this is what they meant when they […]
Category: Creative writing
Madeira
I’m sitting outside the Padaria Pastelaria Mariazinha. I say outside, but in fact the area I am sitting in has a roof and four walls- although the one next to the road has a glass panel in it. Occasionally I’ll hear a great whooshing sound as a car or a bus zooms past. In the […]
Identity Crisis
How much do I hate myself? As much as I hate calories As much as I hate the patriarchy Or Donald Trump (Maybe not quite as much as him) As much as I hate hockey socks Or the colour beige Or beige hockey socks for that matter Not as much as I hate sexist teachers. […]
Rowan Ink 