Oonah V Joslin lives in North East England and writes mostly poetry and flash fiction. She was Managing Editor of Every Day Poets from 2008 to 2014, and is currently Poetry Editor of The Linnet’s Wings.
It was winter and a blue snow fell again covering the plains of this insignificant planet in a fine cobalt dusting of fresh, deep powder. Janey liked to kick it around exposing the light blue layer beneath the darker surface;… Continue Reading
Alb and I always call in for a pint after work on a Friday, our ritual to celebrate another week’s work. I mean nobody likes a dead end job in insurance sales but times are hard and money’s tight. I… Continue Reading
Red patent leather winks out from the central window of the store. On the left uniformed dummy-girls wear pleated gymslips, bound with fixed girdles of red or green or blue. One is uncomfortably bumfled up in an unseasonable Burberry. On… Continue Reading
I had lost two apprentices in the last clash — seen it all before — the mangled mess of torn flesh and splintered wood; bloody stumps of blown off arms and legs cut through with shot. Cannon will do that… Continue Reading
Lena was getting sick of being nagged. She played along so as not to upset anybody; her son Dean, his wife Sandrine, her best friend Carol. Best friends are hard to come by and maybe Carol had a point. She… Continue Reading
I had this sense of déjà vu. A frisson. A knock came at the door. I don’t have what you’d call a door, so I knew that the knock was out of time. I pressed on the panel and… Continue Reading
My world turned upside down and I was hurtling down the tree-lined slope screaming, holding tight to the rope, egged on by shouts of glee and laughter from behind. My green muffler sailed out in the wind created by the… Continue Reading
“It’s cold in here. You should light a fire.” Sara shivered, hoping for a cuddle. “Not until that chimney’s swept.” Joe was always so practical, but a date stripping wallpaper wasn’t what she’d had in mind. “How many layers of… Continue Reading
“I don’t understand why you’re worried, Meg. She’s eating okay.” “Yes, but it’s the effort. I can’t keep up. Last week it was squiggly foods. That wasn’t so bad. I got curly fries and spaghetti and I made squiggly-looking sausage… Continue Reading
The old captain turned the urn in weathered hands. Two witnesses stood by. I was one of them; a friend of the captain, a fellow fisherman in the past, though I did not know the deceased well. He twisted the… Continue Reading