Displaying items by tag: short stories - Rosie Garland
2018 Nominations round-up!

It’s always wonderful to receive nominations for my work, and I can announce a few beauties.

First up, absolutely delighted to have a poem nominated for the 2018 Pushcart Prize!
‘The Topiary garden’ was first published in Picaroon Issue #7. Thank you to the editors for having such faith in my writing.
You can read the poem here:

… and I’m honoured to have my poem ‘Extinction events’ (featured in New Welsh Reader 115) nominated for the Forward Prize for Best Single Poem by the lovely people at New Welsh Review.

and finally, my short story ‘An Eye for An Eye’ (in 'Darkest Midnight in December' edited by Storm Constantine, Immanion Press) has been nominated for the BSFA Awards! These are awarded each year to the best Novel, Short fiction, Artwork and work of Non-Fiction as voted for by the members of the British Science Fiction Association.


Published in News
Tuesday, 07 November 2017 13:46

A foxy short story for Hallowe'en...

Thank you to the gorgeous people at For Books’ Sake for featuring my new short story ‘Eye for an Eye’ as their Weekend Read for Hallowe'en…

it’s also a sneak peek into the forthcoming anthology ‘Darkest Midnight in December’ from Immanion Press (December 2017), edited by Storm Constantine.

Read on…

Published in News
Monday, 19 November 2012 13:52


Wolf-Girls: Dark Tales of Teeth, Claws and Lycogyny, Edited by Hannah Kate (Hic Dragones 2012)

Feral, vicious, fierce and lost… the she-wolf is a strange creature of the night. Attractive to some; repulsive to others, she stalks the fringes of our world as though it were her prey. She is the baddest of girls, the fatalest of femmes – but she is also the excluded, the abject, the monster.

The Wolf-Girls within these pages are mad, bad and dangerous to know. But they are also rejected and tortured, loving and loyal, avenging and triumphant. Some of them are even human…

Seventeen new tales of dark, snarling lycogyny. Features Rosie Garland’s short story ‘Cut and Paste’


Price: £8.99 (plus P&P)


EXTRACT from 'Cut and Paste'

Annie wakes up talking.

‘He looked like Michael Jackson, but with a real nose.’

‘Oh god,’ I groan.

‘He was really hitting on me.’

I push back the covers, give up on dozing. The moment she opens her mouth I can smell her breath, stale with beer from the night before.

‘Gross,’ I mutter. ‘I hate Michael Jackson. I always hated him, even before he died. Even before all that stuff with the twelve year old boys.’


‘Yeah, right.’

I grunt something about being able to afford the most expensive lawyers in the world, but Annie is gazing off to the left, picking plaque off her teeth and wiping it on the sheet. She stopped listening when I wouldn’t let her get away with acquitted. It makes me want to go on some more: pound her with words. She stops listening so fast.

‘He said he was a cosmetic surgeon,’ she says.

‘You’re not having plastic surgery.’

‘It’s not plastic.’

‘That’s how you’d end up looking.’

She sighs, continues as though I’ve said nothing. ‘I might. You know.’


‘See him. Meet up with him.’

‘Who? Michael Jackson? He’s gone where you can’t follow.’ I smirk.

‘No. Him. The guy I met at the party.’

‘What?’ This wakes me up for sure. ‘Are you nuts?’

Published in Short Stories
Monday, 19 November 2012 13:45

The Sandhopper Lover and other stories

Room With A Partial View - The Sandhopper Lover and other Stories (Cinnamon Press)

I was still determined to go, even without you. The flight from Stansted blurred into every other flight I had taken from there; the coach transfer from Pisa was held up by road works. By the time I arrived in the centre of Florence and bumped my wheeled case from the bus station to the hotel I’d seen enough of rolling Tuscan hills.

            ‘You are alone?’ asked the clerk at Reception.


            ‘But you have double room?’

            ‘Yes. Paid for. Is there a problem?’ I glared.

            ‘No, no.’ He clattered at the keyboard, squinting at the screen. ‘You have Room 301.’ He gave me a swipe card.

            ‘It’s a double room?’


            He was almost telling the truth. The bed was a double, and there was just enough space to squeeze around it and open the wardrobe door three-quarters of the way. I checked the hotel layout map taped to the back of the door. A red sticker indicated you are here. The here was a narrow slot squashed between rooms more than twice its size.

            I edged past the television and opened the window. It’s the first thing I do on holiday. Facing me was a brick wall. I stood on tiptoe and caught a glimpse of a domed building showing its pate over the top of the wall. I flipped through my guidebook: the Medici Chapel.

It was unfair. I’ve had worse (don’t get me started on New York), but if any room in this hotel was going to look out at bricks and mortar, it was going to be mine. I leaned out of the window. The room next door had a great view: the wall didn’t stretch that far. It had a balcony, too. That’s when I saw her foot.



Published in Short Stories
Monday, 19 November 2012 13:35

Discovering a Comet

Sadie Jones Took Me Line Dancing, Discovering a Comet (Leaf Books, 2008)


Sadie Jones is a cowgirl. She’s my mum’s new friend, but isn’t like a mother. She’s got this thing she does with her eyes: you know she’s never changed a nappy.

My mum has taken up dancing. It’s one of her new pursuits since Dad’s affair with Brian really worked out. It’s not to meet men, she tells me. Or women, she adds, like I’d be worried about that.



Published in Short Stories

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