Fictional Worlds

The key unwritten law for travelling on the London Underground is that you should never interact with fellow passengers, with the possible exception of offering your seat to someone visibly more in need of it. You may, however, people-watch a bit mo…

My mother's wedding dress was the skin of a swan, still blindingly white after more than a decade nestled in tissue paper. I would bury my fingers in the feathers, but my mother would only stroke it distractedly before putting it away again. via Poc…

A child dies. Lost in the woods, he curls up at the base of an ancient oak, and never rises again. Or she falters in the snow, lying down for a moment by the side of the road, just a moment to rest her eyes. Or, starving and alone, he weeps for some…

I fasten my skates. The ritual soothes me, dozens of eyelets all pulled tight. Fasten my breathing mask, cool against the skin of my face. Hoist my daily pack over coat-padded shoulders. via Pocket