A short story inspired by the mystical town of Glastonbury, where I spent much of my childhood walking up the Tor and exploring the many gem and tarot shops. I’ve long been fascinated by the town’s special history, and this is my way of celebrating all things magic and witchcraft.

This idea came to me on my way home from work. Every day, I pass a small, ancient church on the grounds of a school. A plaque told me it had been around for centuries. Around the side, there’s a small door that clearly hasn’t been used for years, and suddenly I was transported to this place in my mind. In that place stood a church, surrounded by ivy, oak, and twisted yew trees, and I found myself wondering: How lonely must that church feel, abandoned for so long?

I wrote this piece based on one of the weird, unintelligible thoughts I’d written down in my notes app as writing inspiration. I wasn’t entirely sure where it was going at first, but once I started writing, it became clear what I wanted to critique: the use of generative AI in creative spaces. Generative AI cannot create; it can only steal. Through horror imagery, I hope I have portrayed that clearly. When generative AI is used, a theft has been committed.

I was inspired by this story whilst at work, so when I went for my break I typed it up quickly. Obviously, this is about my love for books and the unique transportive magic they hold.

The idea for this piece struck me whilst I was cleaning away a spider sac. No offence to the mother, but I didn’t want hundreds of creepy-crawlies showering with me. It made me think about pregnancy, fertility, birth, and about those who are unable to go through this process. For some, that’s devastating. I wanted to write a weird piece from the perspective of someone who couldn’t, but who would do anything to try — even swallowing other mothers’ babies.

I was curled up with my cat under a fuzzy blanket on a blustery Autumn evening when I came up with the idea for this flash. I've always loved stories written from the perspective of animal companions (especially feline ones!) and felt inspired to try it myself here. This is an ode to the travesties inflicted upon ‘witchy’ women of the past, and of the enduring love between them and their ever-faithful ‘familiars.’

I saw the line “the vast, ruthless sea” in a book, and it struck me as a powerful opening for a short story. I wanted to explore the idea of a large body of water and phobias, paired with the psychological unease that arises from the dynamics between certain archetypes of men and women.