Novel Writing

Mia Ellison

Beyond Askandra by Mia Ellison 2018 


It had been only a couple of hours since Mother had disappeared. She had been sick for a long time, she was on her dying breaths. The cold aur prickled my cheek as it floated passed. A single tear ran down my cheek, which felt like it had frozen in place. Addae was standing just outside, telling everyone who came to leave me alone. To leave me to think. I didn’t want to be left alone. I hated my thoughts. They were too dark, to filled with sad thoughts and depressing pictures of Mother and I. Most importantly, the stores and the land she promised she would bring me. Which now seems so far away.

Medeina Considine

By Medeina Considine 2018

She kept her body low to the ground. Her heart was beating fast and her icy blue and vibrant purple eyes were open wide. Her ears were up high as if they were trying to reach the sky. The long sunflowers were hiding her body with the long strands of dark green grass. She was terrified, what if they found her, what if they hurt her! But she already knew the answer to the second question… yes, yes they would hurt her. They would hurt her for running away, for escaping and not telling, not telling them what they want to know… where it was.

Maya Flynn

By Maya Flynn 2018

When I was five years old I blinked. There was a girl sitting between the bloody corpses of my parents holding a knife. She smiled and waved, then I screamed.

As I walk down mainstreet I take long steps in an attempt to avoid the puddles of questionable fluid. The air stinks of smoke and filth. I pass people hunched over sitting in doorways. The homeless, the alcoholics the addicts. All those kept on the periphery of society.

I pull open the door and climb the rickety stairs to my room.

Maryam Ahmed

By Maryam Ahmed 2018


“No one can know,” Mick said, using Rosa’s blanket to cover the side of the bed.

“It’s gonna stink,” she replied, her voice shaky. “My parents will find it.”

“Could you stop worrying for five minutes? Mick whisper-yelled, his hands shaking.

Kirti Achanta

By Kirti Achanta 2018

It had been ten years since the last time I had seen her and truthfully, I did not miss her one bit, in fact, I could not care less if she lived or died. ‘I am sure that you have seen the news recently, yes?’ I said in a desperate attempt to get out of making this decision.

‘Yes, I have, Ms Reynolds and I understand this must be extremely difficult for you but’

Julianna Cooper

By Julianna Cooper 2018

On a good day, it almost seemed to be a life event, or an entertaining measure, to consider my own obnoxious character. How funny I was in the manner with which I annoyed those in close proximity and wowed them with my own thickheaded, idiotic stubbornness. It seemed all the more fitting, ever so, that I should quietly allow my talent in gym mat wrestling to expire and push my local bank for a loan, playing debt chicken for the fairly specific sake of moving to Paris – this being a non-important era in my life to busy myself over the months wherein I would emerge with the beige French bricks and hoped that one day, I could too be painted a vibrant colour after a vibrant livelihood.

John Kennedy

By John Kennedy 2018

Dead. This was the word that came to mind as Eric stared out of the glassless gas station window into the desolate Martian colony. Collapsed and crumbling skyscrapers lined the warped and cracked streets; tombs of false hope, reminders of decades past. The roads were empty, eerily so, save for red sand and rubble.

His line of work often brought him to these dead settlements. Mars was full of them; Rotten and decayed, abandoned by people seeking a better life in the cities.

James Prestage

Something Under the Bed by James Prestage 2018

The room was dead silent. Little Isabelle lay motionless, her body still and her eyes fixed on the ceiling. She couldn’t drop her guard for there was something lurking amongst the shadows. She could sense this sinister presence. It was approaching midnight on this warm July evening. The urge to run into her parents’ room tempted her, but they never believed her desperate plea. 

The floorboards creaked as the presence of this being became louder. 

Finn Keating McMahon

By Finn Keating McMahon 2018

There was a pause. How is it that sometimes silences can be so loud?

‘Look, Reg,’ began Leslie. ‘I’m neither the only nor the first one to notice these…alleged shortcomings.’

‘Then who, I prithee…I pray…uh…pray tell me, who it was that first noticed?’

‘Well, in this particular case the problems were brought to us by Jim Lockwood.’

Eve Moloney

By Eve Moloney 2018

Tonight, as I lie in my small, creaky bed, I think of those children on a journey to an alien but safe place, and us still in England’s damaged cities, living amongst fires, rubble and citizen’s broken lives. The country people are all too aware of the Luftwaffe planes polluting England’s skies. They’re informed of news updates on the wireless every night, but it’s different to endure the perpetual cacophony of bangs, sirens, screams, and the drone of planes.

It’s exhausting being woken by the air raid sirens and drowsily running to the cramped bunker carrying the perennially inconvenient gas masks.