by Monim Wains I have watched him, the cherub, from the moment he cried. He opened his eyes and gaped at the sky. His penny-sized heart just fluttering by; pulsing for the clouds, woollen and white. He reached from his cot, with his fingers he stretched. In his eyes, I could see the stars reflect. […]
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by Tobias Thornes I could not know, as I scrambled through the suburbs and savannah of Kenya and Ethiopia while May slipped into June of 2019, that my long Slow Travel – over a year by then in duration – was so soon, so hurriedly, to come to a close. Since that sunny spring day […]
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by Tobias Thornes Cecil Rhodes once dreamed of a railway that would run right up the length of Africa, from Cape Town to Cairo through a long line of conjoined British colonies. One by one, most of the necessary tribes and kingdoms of ancient Africa had fallen into Britain’s grip by the end of the […]
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by Chloe Jacobs In an alcove before the Rad Cam, there has been a shipwreck. Some small vessel has run aground on the cobblestones and left the debris of life behind, floating on thin waves of pure foam. Or, perhaps, these are the remains of an ancient civilisation. Great Pyramids have spilled onto English pavements, […]
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by James Page Crofton’s Seat was built upon an ancient rock overlooking the fields below. The single wide tower was surrounded by a low wall into which a great pair of iron gates was set as a mouth. It seemed as old as the land itself, and as likely to be abandoned as sheltering a […]
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by James Page Beyond the tumbling hills, the great storm brewed on the horizon. Katherine found it mesmerising: its devastating vastness, the way it twisted and changed from moment to moment, the flickering light from within it flashing and fading. There was something strangely calming about its intricacies, despite the inevitable destruction it contained. She […]
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by Michael Angerer Our memories are the stories that we tell ourselves: to remember is to scribble in faint pencil across the fabric of our lives. When inspiration strikes – a light across the ceiling, the warmth of a bed, a cup of tea – we conjure up an image of the past that neatly […]
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by Aidan Chivers The air around me is calm and still as I wake up, but if I keep my eyes closed and breathe slowly, I can still hear the fading echoes of church bells, morning lectures and Latin grace. They have not vanished, but are softly receding into old, fading patterns which hold glimpses […]
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by Peter Pencewing What you are about to read is absolutely true and, although it happened to me, it could just as easily have happened to you. You see, last weekend – after a frightfully fearsome week spent in the Bodleian cramming for an essay due at the precise time of 2:37 p.m. on Friday […]
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by James Page In the darkness, they fed upon each other. Coiling and writhing in the depths, the spot of sunlight moving down one wall and up the other, grazing their faces for a minute a day and then passing on. The smaller looked to the larger, and planned its next move. He turned briefly […]
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by Amanda Higgin Xanda and I have been having a conversation about our respective literary collections, wandering together around University Parks after having lunch in town. As an English Literature degree student, Xanda is obliged to have a huge collection of books of impressive quality; as an English Literature A-leveller I choose to have a […]
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by Amanda Higgin Xanda and I are meeting up in first week, perched on the steps of the Martyrs’ Monument with our takeaway paper cups in hand, making the most of the transitory British sunshine. In an effort to turn the conversation away from the looming threat of my Prelims, Xanda ventures the extracurricular line of […]
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by Amanda Higgin Xanda and I are queuing for the Ladies’ during the interval of the Rocky Horror Show (which is no longer showing at New Theatre, I’m afraid, but here’s a tip for if you ever see it: you’d think wearing more clothes than everyone else would make you feel less vulnerable, but if […]
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by Amanda Higgin Xanda and I sit in the window seat of the cafe, watching Oxford as it slips into darkness. People below are barely distinguishable coats laden with bags as they scuttle through the damp streets towards some dry, artificially lit haven. Some dusks are beautiful blends of mystery and sunset blush; tonight is […]
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by Samuel Irvine The heavens continue their onslaught. Frozen rain beats down on the rusted exterior of the aircraft, already lost in the storm. Inside, I stare at the small mound of poorly cured furs and scraps of cloth serving as blankets, resting across a row of worn seats that lie on the far side […]
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by Amanda Higgin Xanda and I sit in armchairs, chatting across a café table as the rain drizzles down the window beside us. The café is humid from drying coats, but we have been here long enough to have warmed up. “I’ve finally gotten into Hamilton,” I offer in a momentary quiet. “Congratulations!” Xanda smiles. […]
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The Poor Print 