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Her short fiction has been listed for the Manchester Fiction Prize and The London Magazine Short Story Competition, and published by The Manchester Review. The boss-man’s wizened mother-in-law comes with Jasmine tea, goes with consumed expectations. June 13: ‘What if’ by Jenni Komarovsky If only I had died. This room is dark and cold, the bed unmade, my clothes and body smell. Yucheng’s free hand loops her scarf once more around her neck, a slight buffer to the bone-chilling southerly off Cook Strait. Bernard Heise, Trabiworld " data-medium-file="https://nationalflash.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/bernard-heise-trabiworld.jpg? w=300&h=164" data-large-file="https://nationalflash.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/bernard-heise-trabiworld.jpg? w=584" class="size-medium wp-image-955" src="https://nationalflash.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/bernard-heise-trabiworld.jpg? w=300&h=164" alt="Bernard Heise, Trabiworld" width="300" height="164" srcset="https://nationalflash.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/bernard-heise-trabiworld.jpg? The teenage busser (an eventual flight risk) looks outside where fortunes rise and fall while she fills steam trays. That time that I had rheumatic fever when I was 35. My wife and children have gone, my money and talent long spent. Now saying to her arm-hugging companion, Wind very cold… I saw how she might’ve bounced, brazen, up to his window, tossing her ponytail in the way a dog in the Second-Chance Pound might wag its tail and woof at strangers, sensing this one, at last, has a kind face. Rumours always hold truth no matter how far-fetched. The water beautiful, some strange anomaly made it glow blue despite the current situation. They radiated viciousness, showing that this beast would kill cold-blooded. We’d dated three or four times; tonight was the night. When the nurse arrived, their tears were running in paired tributaries down her face, the current so strong she felt its pull from the doorway. On the way he stands in fresh cowpats to thaw his toes. “Put your affairs in order.“ He didn’t look up from the screen. She offers me a forbidden treat, a gobstopper to share. Selections for this series were made by the Micro Madness team of Mad Hatters, Eileen Merriman and Nod Ghosh, who read all submissions with no knowledge of writer names.She named it Dragon, made it friend and shelter in one. All hopes of escaping ruined by the monster’s eyes. Sharp teeth and fangs stained with blood filled my vision. Almost an inch long, razor-sharp with rotting pieces of flesh stuck to them. I pushed my fork into a part that was not prime; it slipped into a giblet or orifice. A rich brown colour, they steam invitingly along the edge of the road. June 11: ‘The Advice’ by Hilary Boyd Today the doctor told me I am dying. The selections were made based on quality and variety of writing styles, and the assortment was vast!At night she huddled in moss-mottled airline seats and invented stories of flights through skies of flaming stars. He’s robbed ma i Pod, ma purse, panned ma windaes in. Let me come hame.” She’s hingin’ in the doorway like a broken doll. After tapas, we took on the main event: 32oz ribeye, asparagus, and goat’s cheese risotto. Outside school he cleans his feet on the frosty grass. His voice was as cold as the wind that hit me when I entered his damned clinic. He was stooped over his computer, tapping away as if I had ceased to matter. She tried to recall fairy tales from her youth, but she’d been alone so long all that remained were shreds. The steak was hacked into strips, with a scattering of arugula. This morning he’d arisen early and put boot black in his hair to hide the red, admiring the effect in the cracked bathroom mirror. Jane Percival lives on the Kaipara Harbour, north of Auckland, New Zealand. you’d never forgive yourself…’ How wrong they were, Evelyn thought. Wrapped in its lace shawl she nurtured it tenderly with kindness and compost. Our sheets went up in flames that night and Icarus, I melted. John Holland is a prize-winning short fiction writer from Gloucestershire in the UK, who likes to take his stories on the road. Jac Jenkins is currently learning how to live a metropolitan life in Wellington after many years in rural New Zealand. They say wonderful things about what one might do here on earth.
is a Hungarian-born poet, writer, librettist, Reviews Editor of The Ofi Press and Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts. Her recent publications include Estuary: A Confluence of Art and Poetry (winning the Saboteur Award), her poetry collection Captain Fly’s Bucket List and two chapbooks with Moria Books (USA). As the serpent-shaped head lifts, our girl begins to scream ‘Taniwha! Pamella Laird has written for many years, has published or helped publish five books and is about to publish a collection of short stories to aid fund-raising for Nth Shore Hospices. My mother, a beagle-breeder and amateur stigmeologist, showed me the space that can be held in punctuation: how we can exhale commas into chaos, settling a paragraph as a hound winding down around its tail to rest, nose propped on the basket’s edge; how the question mark with its raised brow opens the eyes to that tock between two thoughts; how the full stop holds the tongue of the panting sentence against the next rush of unleashed sound. Expect to post smart times on our rolling, scenic, on road course.which includes a loop of the Tauranga CBD streets, picturesque Memorial Park, plus Beach Road, Harbour Drive and Kulim Park. "This is the most professionally run event because of the number of road cones, the number of officials, the music, the festival atmosphere at the end, just everything.It is a real positive family environment and showcases all of Tauranga with the view out to Matakana and the Mount."You couldn't ask for more could you." Ben Ruthe, our 2016 Tauranga Half Marathon champion. Numbers 1601-1661, 1663-1670 were built by Hawke 1981-84. The MAN SL200 has an 11 litre 6 cylinder naturally aspirated diesel moter.