Alone in the middle of a dark stage, our night’s starlet looks out over a quiet crowd of empty seats, listening to the faint echo of future cheers. Every night’s show will begin with her, there, dramatically poised against rows of wooden beams and branches centre-stage, these meant to look like trees and buildings andContinue reading “Stage? Right.”
Tag Archives: creative writing
Suck It, Miss Bea.
There’s a lady already on about her damn therapeutic hairless cats when I get in. Trying to catch my breath, I make it almost to the back row, but of course all 10 or 12 of them are drawn to the smell of what snuck in with me—the lovely, sultry, slightly burned aroma of aContinue reading “Suck It, Miss Bea.”
Valley View’s Dead
“Think that one looks fresher than the others?” I flick my cigarette at a grave to my left. Both of us watch as the cherry fades into the yellowing sod. “What’s the name?” “Hughes, 1943 to 1987,” I say. Nicholas gives the stone angel a kick. The priest at the bottom of the hill stopsContinue reading “Valley View’s Dead”
Jessica Barratt 