I generally try to avoid literary fiction. In my experience, it is a path lined with pretentious smugness and people all trying to sound more clever than the next. On rare occasions, though, I stumble across a literary magazine which is filled with quality writing but less elitist and altogether more accessible. 34 Orchard, edited […]

Loose Ends @ 34 Orchard — cmsaunders

By the bank Palit got his flute out. He blew a long, monotone sound. Then they waited. Nothing happened. -Maybe we’re in the wrong place? Nista glanced over at Palit staring out on the lake. -Look! The water moved. Something came up, emerged through the surface. A hippo creature, big as a whale. It moved in to the shore and waited. Palit leaped out on the big beast’s back. -Come on, jump! Nista hesitated. It didn’t look safe. The animal sunk down, moved away from the shore. -Jump! She jumped, landed on its back. Slipped, fell into the water. Palit pulled her up. The journey was long. The creature walked on the bottom where it could, swam where it had to. The water got deeper, the rocks on the sides taller. -Where are we going? Nista said. -I have no idea. The old man only told me I had to blow the flute. The rest would be up to fate. They moved out into open water…. (more)

Strike of Luck — Fictionspawn

Dirk had been sitting in the jar for days. He was hungry and thirsty, and there was no one around. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was eating some strawberries in the forest. Then he had gotten sleepy. The door opened. A giant figure came in, long and thin, dark and grey. It looked at him and smiled an evil grin. This monster did not have good intentions. Dirk got up on his feet. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could find some way to escape this horror, some moment when his keeper would look the other way. If he could only get out of the jar, he could make a run for it. His abductor looked around the room. He found a test tube, poured some transparent liquid into it. He searched some more, swearing in some strange language. Lifting books, moving glasses and bottles. He found what he was looking for, a little bottle. Opened it, poured it into the tube. Smoke emerged. The test tube changed colour. The chemist laughed. He took a deep smell of the smoke coming up. Dirk could see a flash of madness in his eyes, a triumph he didn’t like at all… (more)

Experimental Chemistry — Fictionspawn

Imposter Syndrome is frequently discussed, and most creatives, including writers, are likely to be familiar with the term. It describes the feeling of being a fraud, and of not deserving the success you’ve achieved. There is a sense of waiting to be “found out”. When it comes to our own talents and abilities, self-confidence is […]

Imposter Syndrome and Unsupportive Families — Paula Writes

“Tonight I’m going to tell you the story about Jack. Jack was a young man, a man living here in this village. Jack walked the streets late at night, strode when everyone else had gone to bed. Jack was the night guard, the man who lit the street lamps at night. The watchman, the man who kept us all safe.” All the children listened carefully. Old Davick took a deep breath, and went on with his story. “One night Jack saw something on top of the high mountain top behind the village. The old legends say it’s holy, but there are even older legends saying it is cursed. He saw something move up there, something big, rounding the top before it disappeared… (more)

Scream in Silence — Fictionspawn