Prose

Leaving the Body – “Leaving” Contest Winner

by Lisa Knopp

A woman enters the room and sits a basin of water on the bedside table. “I’m here to get your mother ready for the people who are coming to pick her up soon,” she says softly. My brothers and sister-in-law excuse themselves and head to the family lounge. I linger.

Home

by Paddy Reid

In all his eleven years, Liam Bollard had never been away from Dublin. He really missed the sounds of Portside Street.

Café – Contest Runner Up

by Laura Bonazzoli

“Come on,” he pleaded, his black eyes shifty with morphine. “Let’s blow this joint. You and me. Let’s get outta here. Go to a café somewhere and talk.”

When Johnny Comes Marching Home

by Katherin Hervey

I am their Commander. The one in the wheelchair with the permanent scowl. I got my legs blown off in Iraq. But my arms and chest are ripped from the gym. I like to take my shirt off and show the tendons popping from my muscles so people know I ain’t weak.