Fiction | “Smack” from Salt Slow by Julia Armfield

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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 [...]'

Fiction | Quiet Mountain by Sally Jubb

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They got on at Vico Equense. The carriage was almost full, but the two of them managed to squeeze into a seat diagonally opposite,...

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

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

Fiction | The Sinners’ Corner by Mark Sadler

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

Spotlight II: Dostoyevsky Wannabe

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The London Magazine has long been a champion of emerging writers and independent publishers, stretching back to the 1950s and 60s, when young writers...

Fiction | Asma by Dur e Aziz Amna

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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...

The Golden Hour by Frances Gapper

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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 | About You by Marjorie Main

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Early on a Saturday morning in October I met Vivian at Liverpool Street Station. Stevie had a painting in an exhibition opening that night,...

Fiction | Sylvia Plath Watches Us Sleep, But We Don’t Mind...

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Sylvia Plath Watched Us Sleep, But We Don't Mind was the third prize winner in our Short Story Competition 2017. We’ve been married three years...

Fiction | The Root of it All by Charlotte Newman

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  Pavements slick from rain and a market at night, risen dripping from the oily roads like a brand new continent. Brunch alongside nails alongside...

Fiction | The Word Necklace by Suzannah V. Evans

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The word necklace was intricate, beautiful. When she put it on it felt light, beautiful, as if she were wearing coral, or air. The word...

A Discrete Disclosure by Desmond King

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Frank’s Englishness was all about him for he dressed in country wear:  tweed sports jackets, check shirts, Burberry rain macs, and a perpetual woollen...

Fascicle 41 by Anna McGrail

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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...

A Glamorous Life by Karl Manders

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

Interview | Amy Sackville

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

The Soviet Prom by Neil Herrington

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  Wednesday, 21 August 1968   The moment you and Slava enter the dining room, he throws himself on the first person he sees, kisses both of...

Fiction | Exposition by Nathalie Léger tr. Amanda DeMarco

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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 [...]

Fiction | Diasporic Guilt by Mohamed Keshavjee

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‘Shoeshine, sir?’ asked the young lad with a shoeshine box in his hand, as I peered into the window of a shop in New...

Archive | Fiction | Let Them Call it Jazz by Jean...

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One bright Sunday morning in July I have trouble with my Notting Hill landlord because he ask for a month’s rent in advance. He...

Fiction | The Interpreter of Dreams and Maladies by Mark Budman

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Mark Budman The Interpreter of Dreams and Maladies I. Stick Figures in Paradise The interpreter of dreams and maladies draws a stick figure with an orange crayon....

Fiction | The Bone Mole by Ed Cottrell

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Ed Cottrell The Bone Mole ———There was a little bone mole for sale, a carving of a mole made of bone. It caught my eye sitting...

Fiction | Just for Five Minutes by Alla Melenteva

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It was an early May day. The war was considered over, though it had not yet been officially declared. A Russian junior lieutenant went...

Fiction | The Prisoner by Tammye Huf

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Tammye Huf The Prisoner I set my alarm clock for midnight, because at one in the morning we wanted to slaughter.  It rang muffled, under my...

Fiction | In Search of Scott by Will Kitson

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Will Kitson In Search of Scott I remember the first time I read F. Scott Fitzgerald’s work. I was 20 years old, in the second year...

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