All posts by Ellen Boucher

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Consider the Lilies

Heat lies over the summer garden like a too-perfumed blanket. The flowers, heavy lidded, gorgeous in their fecundity. I think someone compared them to prostitutes, once, and I can see why. They move only a little in the breeze, waiting for the bees to come

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Suzanne

In a corner of the city where the people lived huddled against the weather all the year, behind an old textile importer, and a never-open second-hand furniture shop filled with unlovely and unwanted things and stood three houses. Their names were Forlorn Hope, and Misbegotten,

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Pirate Jenny

They haven’t got a clue who they’re dealing with. Not the ones who try to pretend I’m not there; not the ones who start away, frightened, when they see me in my doorway; not even the kind ones who bring me something from the café

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Box of Delights

I see it when I am cleaning the attic. A battered shoebox covered in fabric, sat on an elderly suitcase. A jolt runs up my spine, and I’m unsure whether it’s a good surprise, or a bad one. I tear the lid off my memories

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A Game At Farkle

“It’s not your turn, it’s mine” said Bunthorne.  “You’re cheating,” said Morton, before he realised Bunthorne was right. He handed over the wooden cup and its contents. Bunthorne threw the dice, enjoying the scrabbling sound of bone on wood as they hit the table. “A