LATEST IN PROSE
Snow Globe by Sapphire Allard
A pregnant woman reflects on her ancestry.
Across the Ocean by Yuqing Weng
A multi-generation story of immigration, repatriation, and the recovering of self-identity.
Sprinkles by Eule Grey
The sprinkles and ripples of Miranda’s life stop her from buying eggs to make a meal for her date.
Dinner Time by Priyadarshini Gogoi
A New Delhi woman takes matters into her own hands when a late-night visitor refuses to leave.
Jesus Christ Super Lager by John Tinney
A comedy about nothing being sacred.
The Roads Outgrown by Cathal P. Little
A collection of vignettes, from an IRA funeral observed through the eyes of a young altar boy, to the accidental purchase of a camel in the Algerian Sahara.
The Gingerbread Cycle by Jasmine Sawers
A retelling of Hansel and Gretel, both before and after.
Walking Shoes by Mariann Evans
After finding her husband’s old walking shoes, a feisty elderly lady with dementia takes a trip to visit him in hospital, but finds a heart-breaking truth waiting for her instead.
A Night for the Saints by Heather Lee Shaw
A mother and daughter, two moments in time, both running towards and from family.
MORE PROSE
The Man on Fire by Noah Singh-Harris
The dream does not leave his mind with the rising daylight; it sinks in deeper, taking hold of him and forcing him to view the truth of what he had been stopped from doing.
Octopus by Magali Roman
In Paris, every advertisement is a painting. The city is wallpapered with them: vibrant, colorful posters that grow like moss on every surface.
Okay by Dawn Taggett-Burton
Fiction | Dear Sleuth Readers: The following content is an excerpt from a letter currently on display in the National Museum of Tourism and Immigration.
Hope Is For The Unprepared (Or Me) by Rémy Ngamije
“Love has no exit interviews,” I say. “Closure is the poor man’s time travelling.” My voice is cold over the phone. I tell myself the situation calls for it; I’m speaking to my ex-girlfriend, after all.
By the River by Noah Singh-Harris
It often feels like there’s nothing left to say. Let me clarify: there’s nothing peaceful left to say.