Clio’s Kingdom

Forget Me Not

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JOHN IRVING CLARKE When he woke, the woman was standing over him. He took in his surroundings – the scrubby bushes under which he’d thrown himself, the wind barging through the paltry shelter, the darkening sky – and he would…

Moonlight visions

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SILVANO GREGOLI.  THE 60s, AREA OF PIAN DELLA TURA Mondovì, Saturday afternoon, Piazza Adua. Spring is at its fullest but the mountains are still white. We, the people of the refuge, are ready to get on our Vespa and Lambretta…

What Else Would the Son of a Cat Do…?

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GABRIEL ROSENSTOCK What Else Would the Son of a Cat Do…? …only kill a mouse! Of course! I have been a member of Gaels Anonymous for fourteen years now, I’d say. Maybe longer, even? You’d think I’d remember, considering how fateful a…

From the Diary of a Kitchen Hand

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SILVIA PIO I got myself hired because I wanted to be close to him, to hear him swiftly swirl only ten steps away from me. I cheated on my education to get this job, the only one available in his…

My Boobs and I

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FADWA AL QASEM They just don’t let me be. And so, I’m ever alone; they’re always with me. If I try to forget, to be oblivious to their presence, I don’t succeed. For the slightest movement causes them to wriggle,…

Put your feet up

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JOHN I. CLARKE “We’ll stay at home and take it easy. We’ll avoid the half-term crowds. Unwind a bit. You can put your feet up and relax.” It had been agreed then – no week in the Lakes after all.…

The Galloping Horses

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JOKHA AL HARTHI Nassir al-Abd does not understand anymore; he used to conceptualize life as something stable. He used to touch the stability of life, but he knew, in a mysterious way, that it is not as stable as it…