New and emerging fiction published by The Drouth.
30th March 2020
‘It’s the way they give birth these days, that’s the problem,’ the older bear said. Morrgh didn’t argue: it was a supermarket line and it was mid-winter; the sort of time that brings out the worst in everybody
24th March 2020
When I took the apple from the horse’s mouth, I thought I knew it didn’t want me to speak. -Not the horse. And not that this is speaking, or for that matter, even knowing.
14th March 2020
The man with the black horseshoe moustache had been allocated one of the breakfast tables that stood in a row against the glass panels. The hotel was so quiet this morning that all of its breakfasters were able to sit, as in fact they did sit, against the glass...