Fiction | Are There More People Alive Than Dead? by Laurane...

Laurane MarchiveAre There More People Alive Than Dead? The phone rings. 5am. It’s your boyfriend. He is in New York so with the time difference,...

Fiction | The Sinners’ Corner by Mark Sadler

I returned to work on a dismal Tuesday morning, emerging from the main entrance of London, Fenchurch Street, railway station under opaque grey skies....

Fiction | The Swallowed Man by Edward Carey

I am writing this account, in another man’s book, by candlelight, inside the belly of a fish. I have been eaten. I have been eaten, yet I am living still. I have tried to get out. I have made many attempts. But I must conclude that it is not possible. I am trapped within an enormous creature and am slowly being digested. I have found a strange place to exist, a cave between life and death. It is an unhappy miracle. I am afraid  of  the  dark. The dark is coming for me [...]

Fiction | Mens Rea by Annie Fan

Gaby didn’t mean to do it. She wanted to, though — wanted to do something so bad that she might have something to write about — to make the words better than her own life, own breathing, Mark’s breathing. What else is there to it? They met a decade ago when she was halfway through a bland novel, an equally bland degree. They married and less than a year later, she began wanting. She thought that ten years was a decent run of things, a human sort of number [...]

Fiction | “Smack” from Salt Slow by Julia Armfield

The following text is an extract from the story “Smack”, taken from Julia Armfield’s debut collection Salt Slow, published by Picador: 'The jellyfish come with the morning – a great beaching, bodies black on sand. The ocean empties, a thousand dead and dying invertebrates, jungled tentacles and fine, fragile membranes blanketing the shore two miles in each direction. They are translucent, almost spectral, as though the sea has exorcised its ghosts [...]'

The Golden Hour by Frances Gapper

That afternoon was a particularly trying one for Mary. Having changed her mother’s incontinence pad and left her on the sofa watching ‘Homes under...

Fiction | Blue Nude by Charlotte Newman

It was ironic, she thought. Her first shift at the museum was understaffed, it was just the two of them in ceramics. He was dark-lashed, very slight – given more to edges than the centre of things [...]

Interview | Amy Sackville

Back in March at the London Book Fair earlier this year, Vanessa Wheeler sat down with the author Amy Sackville to ask her about...

Fiction | Exposition by Nathalie Léger tr. Amanda DeMarco

She enters. She is roused by anger and reproach. She bursts onto the right of the image as if it were a backdrop masked with curtains. One hand clutches a knife against her waist, which gleams obliquely across her belly. Her face is cold, her mouth thin, lips tight, eyebrows knit, her gaze is clear and hard, her hair is slicked into two little severely parted plaits. The knife, whose handle disappears into her balled fist, vibrates at the very center, nearly absent from it [...]

Fascicle 41 by Anna McGrail

Winner of The London Magazine Short Story Competition 2015.Sometime between 1858 and 1864, Emily Dickinson embarked upon her self-publishing career. She copied out in...

Fiction | We Walk to Dissect by Laura Davis

There are bulls everywhere, a mass of black parading around the fence. The grass is yellower where their feet trample, the farmland is a...

Fiction | The Golden Eel by Neil Burns

It had been twenty years since they last met. Thirty eight year old Eoghan O’Dullach was nervous inside; and in his brain he was...

Fiction | Crete by Cameron Stewart

‘So. What do we want today?’I’m sitting in my local barbers chair, caped up like a clown - my head bulging through the top...

Fiction | Asma by Dur e Aziz Amna

Dur e Aziz Amna received second prize in our Short Story Competition 2017. The year Asma moved in with us, we were living in a two-family...

Into the Blue by Alison Lock

A bee is trapped behind the curtains––its silhouette circles the head of a printed flower. Edith pulls her arm free of the tightly tucked...

Fiction | Not Contagious by Haleh Agar

We’d agreed to the terms and conditions. How to accept and decline an invitation of touch. What to do in case of accidental erection. We’d ticked the box that confirmed we were clean, contagion-free, sound of mind people. Pierre roamed the yoga studio with a disarming smile. He was there to enforce the rules: platonic touch. No funny business. Most people in the studio had paired off, their bodies locked together on those tired mandala cushions. Some lay hidden under white duvets like dead unmoving things [...]

Archive | Fiction | Silvio by Arturo Vivante

 First published in the June 1970 edition of The London Magazine (Vol. 10, No. 3)Like a statue too finely carved, too finished and perfected,...

Fiction | An Actor in the Wings: Notes (1980 – 2009)...

CharlesI could see him from beside the door. He was surrounded by men in suits, pointing at the ceiling, looking at their drinks or...

Extract | Mnemic Symbols by Andrew Hodgson

 The following is an extract from Andrew Hodgson's novel Mnemic Symbols (Dostoyevsky Wannabe, 2019). For more information, visit Dostoyevsky Wannabe. Andrew HodgsonMnemic Symbols Two,‘As I’ve told...

A Glamorous Life by Karl Manders

IN THE SUMMER, while their shells are still a pale colour, you may eat the white kernels of unripe hazel nuts. You extract their...

Fiction | Down the Marina by Daniel Kramb

Daniel KrambDown the Marina At the city’s edge, half way into the marina, Ana-Maria sits on top of her boat, wearing a man’s jumper, pants...

Fiction | Alone with the Tide by John Saul

At last. Dismissing all fiction, I come clean. The figure coming into focus, in that smart black and grey coat, unbuttoned, collar up, is...

Fiction | Blood Brothers by Jessica Andrews

When we were splattered with freckles and tied up in pigtails, we picked sharp rocks from the garden and pushed them into each other’s wrists, our flesh tender and white like peeled crabs. I remember the way our wounds looked, mushy and filled with pieces of grit. ‘Now we are blood brothers,’ I said. She looked at me from behind her nose. 'Blood sisters,’ she pouted. We got changed on the back seat of the car every Wednesday night as my mam drove us from school [...]

Fiction | A Third Presence by Nadine Gordimer

When Rose and Naomi, daughters of poor Rasovsky the tailor, left school in the same year there was no discussion about what they should...

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