Europe
Asia
Oceania
Americas
Africa
for FICTION
BY CHRISTINA COLLINS
Jean’s hand trembled as s
Creaking into the dusty, lookout point, Jessie pulled on the handbrake. Jumping out, she slammed the door. Clouds of grit tailed her maxi skirt to the front of the camper van. Lifting the bonnet, Jess
June walked through the sandstone arches into the small cobbled courtyard. Setting her suitcase down, she looked around, but she was alone. Walking over to what looked like a restaurant, she peered in
EXCITEDLY opening slatted wooden shutters, Evie stepped on to the balcony, greeting the day. Her delicate pink silk robe was barely fluttering in the warm breeze drifting in from the sea. She smiled.
MUM?” Becky said. “When did you know Dad was the man for you?” “What? Pretty early, I think,” Frances replied, taken aback. “It’s so far in the past, I can’t remember.” “It’s important. Try and think
FREE! I’m free at last!” “Oh, Lionel, anyone would think you’d just been released from prison,” Jeanette, his wife, replied. “Well, I have. Since I decided to retire, working my notice has seemed like
EVERYONE seems to have a favourite season, don’t they? My sister, for example, has always loved winter. She says there’s nothing to beat a cold, clear day when the ground is hard and sparkling with fr