The sky grew dark as night drew close.

The day faded from view.

Above, amidst the haze and black,

a pinprick light shone through.

The earthly sight of a billion miles,

bold and bright in the blue.

And while our bodies slept at night,

our souls in dreams, they flew.

Lindsey climbed the last few steep steps before pausing to catch her breath. She furrowed her brow and put her hand to her eyes to take in the view from the Great Wall. It was her second week in China and her third month spent travelling. Around her, tourists bustled and took clumsy photos; silhouettes in the blinding sun. She took in the clean air and snapped a quick shot of the great, green mountains and valleys, carving out the ridges that bore the wall like a majestic crown of stone and cloud.

The weather was dry. Mellow. Five thousand…

Between the stand-up phone calls

and across the office floor,

you wave to folk you hardly know

except in these four walls.


By overcrowded kitchen sinks

we share a laugh or two.

Awkward small talk, Monday mornings

“Yea, I’m good, and you?”


We sit in groups and chat at lunch

about the week we’ve had,

and Netflix shows you’ve got to see

once you’ve finished Breaking Bad.


Through every boring meeting

and biannual corporate do,

forced friendships soon turn genuine,

the falseness becomes true.


These strangers who surrounded us,

now irreplaceable friends.

We go for drinks…

It is short. A fleeting lifespan in which a beating heart tremors, organs pump and the electricity of life undulates through tiny receptors and the cells which comprise them. On feeble wings of glass, she emerges from her paper shell. Thin bodied; long and brown with dancing legs on pinprick feet. With no time to assess, she flaps and hopes that instinct will carry her body upwards. It does. On the breeze she tumbles across the lake, dropping and ascending with the currents until she harnesses the strength in her tiny wings and flies a more stable flight.

As the…

A chilly southerly wind blew strong against my jacket as I took a seat at the bus stop. It had been raining all night and the ground was a blotched blanket of puddles and wet leaves. I shuffled my boots in the murky water beneath the metal bench and thought of my grandfather.

When I was a child, I hated the rain because it meant I couldn’t play outside. I’d sulk and grumble, watching the rainfall from the attic window of my grandparent’s home in Dorset while my grandmother attempted to cheer me up with home baking and hand-crafted puppets…

Here’s to us lucky few

We knew what we wanted to do

We won the race

And knew our place

Inside out and through and through

Here’s to us popular folk

People listened when we spoke

Our confidence

No coincidence

Our egos they awoke

Here’s to us who figured out

What this world is all about

We’re making money

‘Cos the weather’s sunny

For those unafraid to shout

Here’s to us who’ve got it made

Sunshine basking throwing shade

On all our lowly peers

Chained by mortal fears

And paying prices we never paid

Here’s to us who know ourselves

Trophies fill our crowded shelves

We’ve got it together

And will have forever

Into success we’ve delved

Here’s to us, the lucky few

We do what we were born to do

But here’s the twist

We don’t exist

We’re merely an illusion to you

This morning I learned what a ‘Banana roll’ is. No, unfortunately it’s not a dessert — it’s a part of the body which is considered undesirable in the eyes of modern media and consequentially to many women too. A banana roll is a build-up of fat below the buttocks on the upper hamstring and is considered highly problematic. It’s near impossible to get rid of and is caused largely by genetics. …

(Parody of James Joyce’s Molly Bloom monologue from his novel Ulysses)

When you have those days when you just can’t stop eating and you know you shouldn’t have bought £7 worth of Turkish Delight from the man at Spitalfields, yes, but you couldn’t resist and now you’re regretting it because you’re so full and your heart is beating faster from the sugar and yes you’re pretty sure that your body composition is now 70% Turkish Delight but you still can’t stop because it taste so good and you’re very aware that you haven’t been watching your diet recently and you’re…

Hiding behind a Honda Civic, Icarus and Daedalus watched the exit of Ikea with bated breath. The high pitched yelp of a woman had been heard from within the store and both father and son hoped sincerely that it wasn’t Daedalus’s ex-girlfriend Nigella. If she had seen them and followed them out, the potential for things to turn seriously ugly and sad was dangerously high.

Icarus sat in quiet dread remembering his previous encounters with Nigella’s daughter Melissa, who’d surely try to engage him in conversation. Last time she tried to impress Icarus she had pretended that she smoked. Upon…

Okay, this week (24th Jan- 4th Feb) is National Storytelling Week, and I thought I’d take the opportunity to write a little every day. Rather than making up my own super lame story about dragons and elves and shit, I thought I’d create a modern adaptation of my favourite Greek legend, the story of Icarus and Daedalus. Do allow me some, shall we say, artistic licence in my story telling.

“Damn that rotten shop!” grumbled Daedalus as he staggered out of Ikea, blinded by the light of the sun. “Icarus!?” Panicked and dazed, he spun around and fumbled towards the dark void beyond the automatic doors. He could have sworn his son was right behind him. The boy’s angry breaking voice sounded from nearby, “I’m coming! For God’s sake dad. People were staring at us.” A pale, angular face marked with acne scars and hidden in part by a heavy fringe, appeared from inside the mouth of the store. …

Kathryn Slater

Creative Copywriter, UK. Probably knows more Simpsons jokes than you.

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