Cherrypicked stories

It was the end of the world and everything went on fire.

Tip-tap, tippety-tap, my heels strike the wooden floor, bounce off the walls of the tall corridors and echo in my ears. (I imagine thousands of dwarves delving in the deep of Moira, each hammer stroke painstakingly working on a tiny piece of carving) such is my imagination. The familiar feel of a panic attack starts in my booming heart and the corridor starts to recede into darkness, a long tunnel with no beginning and no end. I'm rooted to the spot, unable to move. I'm hyperventilating, I know it, and stretching out a hand to steady myself I'm falling again¦

the boiler started booming like hip hop

I had dreamt of purple and you had laughed at me. Deep baritones of laughter that painted around us with heavy strokes and we were encased. Thick purple paint. And as we lay there, naked and coloured, and your arms wrapped round me like dominoes, I blinked and squirmed from the weight and light of it all.

Edwin Probert: Six foot three, child in the head

From Straddle. Check us out at www.fuselit.co.uk .

Resubmission

We did not go To Thralton Toys and Models Even though my Dad Had said Because you see He tricked me And we went To Thralton Hospital Instead. And then my Dad he told me Before he tried to hold me

Chopping up strawberries to add to our branded Pimms jug, I realise why I distrust summer ' its arrogance ' the hyper-reality of sunlight, those overexposed July mornings; we chat with our palms pressed flat to the sky, crowns of light brambling through our finger-slats.