Franz Kafka claimed that “first impressions are always unreliable”, but are they? Rhian Hutchings assesses the importance of books’ opening lines and why some are more impactful than others.
Creative Writing
An Autumnal Transition
Imogen Williams shares her autumn short story about the beauty of seasonal change
‘Tissue Paper Flames’, a bonfire night poem.
Abbie Walker shares her bonfire night poem, ‘Tissue Paper Flames’.
The Depression Triptych
In light of mental health awareness week, here is Jasmin Priya’s poem about mental health.
The Five Stages of Exams, a short story
Alexia Oerter’s short story about exam season.
Goodbye
He remembers the first time he drove alone. Creeping, clutch down, round the empty car park at the bay. He felt every pebble pop beneath the tires. Back before his test, there was always someone in the passenger seat, telling him to take the next left, telling him to check his mirrors, silently plotting an […]
‘The Lakehouse’
I wish I could hold this moment forever in my mind. You, in tiny sleeves and trousers with your stuffed bear sat at your side. We’re by the docks at the lakehouse where it smells of pine and stagnant pond. There is rotten wood and earthy moistened soil and there is no sound but the […]
“Brushing”
Her hair runs down her back in a meter of thick, hazel satin. Each morning I’m called over to brush, to share the load. Parting at the middle as we both choose our half, she takes what’s right and I take what’s left, unknotting as we go. At first, I copy her, trying to run […]
‘Shade’
The month twas White and decked with Gold, With gifts for young, the gifts from old. We saw the films and read the books, A Reddened nose; Alone v. crooks. And then the time to mull the past, To turn to wine unmulled at last; Now, wine that fizzles, cracks, and pops. To toast […]
The air it breathes of candles burned
The air it breathes of candles burned, Of crimson gold and tinselled dew, Where’er I walk the scent it soothes My crystal flakes like snow unturned. We sit as five and promptly feast On Christmas roast and turkey crisp, And I lay back upon your arm, Suckling the milk of your warm hand. […]