âThall ansin,â a deirim le Caoimhe, ag dĂriĂș mo mhĂ©ar ar chĂșinne iargĂșlta den ĂĄilĂ©ar. An bhfeiceann tĂș an blĂșire dearg sin taobh thiar den…
NĂl tĂș marbh ach, ag an staid seo, nâfheadar an ndĂ©anfadh sĂ© difear ar bith dĂĄ mbeadh tĂș. Fad is atĂĄ do chorp suite ar…
Chonaic mĂ© mo dheirfiĂșr trĂĄthnĂłna. SĂlim. BhĂ sĂ ag siĂșl i measc na scaiftĂ taobh amuigh den phictiĂșrlann ar BhĂłthar Ătha Cliath. An ise a…
âOĂche DĂ© Sathairn, Tigh UĂ Bhriain ag a hocht a chlog is tĂș breĂĄ cluimhritheâ. Bâin an mĂ©id a fuair mĂ© sa tĂ©acs Ăł ShĂle.…
Can you tell us a bit about your relationship with flash? Why it appeals and what frustrates you? Iâm usually working on some flash fiction…
Abi Hynes is a drama and fiction writer. Her short stories have been widely published in print and online, including in Litro, Interzone, minor literature[s]…
Life better now. Easier. No adult. Only children and animal. Why? Why anything? Why sun fall down? Why ant crawl onto pangolin tongue? If other…
Somehow sheâd never imagined it to be this easy; there had not been any moments of hesitation, of wondering whether she shouldnât turn around and…
The glass thickens. Iâm a weird thing now. Iâm a creature of the deep, the down-deep, the unfound black-brown down-deep. I have my lights, my…
On the Monday, we ask people about him, what they remember. Most of them have something to say. âWas it something to do with his…