Your writing critiqued

An old man lives at the bottom of my garden. His name is Robert Barkus, or Bakehouse, or Bagust. Nobody is quite sure. But I often sense him around when I’m gardening, and I’ve found out a fair bit ab

© HEADER DRAWINGS BY MICHAEL HADDAD/HEART Leaves Byung-Chul ...

RUTH climbed the narrow path to Windlow Hill. She had a canvas bag in one hand and her mother’s old cardigan tucked under the other. Below, the village looked almost as it had in her childhood – white

HER phone pinged with the e-mail while she was lying on the beach. The Greek sun blazed down from – well, being a writer, it was second nature for Amy to think about how she would describe the blue sk

JENNA had a length of Christmas-themed fabric. She had used it previously to cover the table of her market stall, and was willing to sacrifice to help beautify Santa’s Grotto. It was patterned with al

JENNA arrived at nine o’clock to open up the stall. Since Lily had been working on her dissertation until the early hours of the morning, she was having a lie-in and would arrive later. Jenna wasn’t l