Author: Lucas Howard

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Zedlist – Part Twenty Six

Serial Fiction “All I ask is for you to have a little faith in me. If our friendship means anything to you, then you’ll trust me.” “I’m here aren’t I?” Alex retorted, “Anyway, I...

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Punk Poet

I’m freshly germinated, I’m learner plated, regurgitating circa eighties post punk poetry, trying to see how many times I can fit fuck into a sentence until I’m saying it – relentlessly. Fuck you! Fuck me!...

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Zedlist – Part Twenty Five

“I’m surprised you found the place”, Amy said, “people often get the building confused with the music studios five doors down.” She passed a bag to Kevin. Kevin peered inside to see that it...

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A Bug’s Death

Standing, staring into the cold, white interior of the bath. A crane fly is caught in the trickle of the tap, helpless. One wing lifeless, the other madly flapping to no avail. For a...

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Zedlist – Part Twenty Four

“There’s something I would like us all to do.” Tim said. “What?” Kevin asked. “We need to all hold hands.” “Why?” Kevin spluttered. “Trust me”, Tim said, with quiet authority. The three men seemed...

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Men in Ties

I know not why but I despise men with tightly knotted ties. and men who always tie their ties far too loose and far too wide. Men who walk around in socks, men who...

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Zedlist – Part Twenty Three

Despite Amy’s concerted efforts to contain everyone, some managed to slip through the net at first. Amy found one woman in the bathroom, transfixed on her own reflection as she pulled faces at herself...

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A Complicated Thing

In a constant state of flux, another ostentatious fling. I’ve been contemplating love but it’s a complicated thing. We tightly hold each other, so brazenly we’re furled as we lie beneath the covers both...

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Zedlist – Part Twenty Two

There was a knock and Harrison immediately started barking at the door. Amy walked through to the hall from the dining room and closed the adjoining door behind her. “Package for Amy Reed” The...

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Zedlist – Part Twenty One

“Feel free to use the shower by the way”, Kevin said. “There is a blue towel hanging up in the bathroom, it’s clean.” “Thanks”, Tim said, “A shower would be good, I still feel...

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The Language of Love

Love is not afraid of cliche, for when it speaks all words expressed before are rendered mute.   more by LUCAS HOWARD Photograph by Denist Soh

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Catching Up

I feel the ache in my hip while running for the bus. At this time of the day it’s full of pensioners. As I sprint with hopeful but ever fading youth, I am quite...