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‘The Red Cycle’ by Kathy Groan

You will hold yourselves up to the light, like this, every twenty-eight days. You will turn, mopping the sweat and blood from your bodies, congealing in the heat of the sun. To congeal: to solidify or come to rest, as in ‘lumpen mass.’ As in matter: to change states, to coalesce, to be in one…

Online Fiction: ‘Strange Bird’ by Órfhlaith Foyle

He went downstairs, shoved the hamburgers in the oven then turned on the radio. He listened out for the news and when he heard about the woman found dead in her kitchen in somewhat suspicious circumstances. There was evidence of sustained attack but no conclusive evidence of murder. George heard his father fat-creep from the bed to the bathroom. He stared at the sun outside. It looked ordinary. His father was fat-creeping down. One step, two step, three step, four step…then eight then the slow heave of his father’s body along the hallway floor.