False Notes and Other Fragrances by Rowan Tate
From the time she was seven, Ketra could smell lies. Some reeked of burnt hair. Some of overripe plums. A half-truth had the scent of chewed mint, stale and thin.
Ernst Is Coming Home by Jack Morris
The rumours arrive on the dawn wind and by mid-afternoon the village ladies have landed in Leonora’s kitchen to disembowel the news.
Observations in a Layby and a Missing Dick by Cheryl Markosky
When the alien lands in the layby [PLACE TO STOP TEMPORARILY AND DRINK AMBER LIQUID FROM THERMOS FLASK] on the A303 at Barton Stacey near the Travelodge, it climbs down the steps from its spaceship into gloomy light.
I Was Seventeen and a Half by Sophie Hoss
and in those days I played chicken with life and roulette with oblivion. I ducked under the lowered crossing signals to race the oncoming train across the tracks, and when I reached the other side, I turned and saw a girl I knew from school jumping after me.
Mud Lungs by Jenna Grieve
The pond cradles them in its mouth like teeth. The statues. Cracked and shattered. They’re reskinned and restitched with moss and algae.