All posts by Ellen Boucher

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Prelude

Baba was stock still in the kitchen when Betty walked in in the morning, peering intently at the gap between the dutch dresser and the wall. I’ve seen that look before. The last time it was a mouse, the time before that a blackbird. It

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The last crossing

He waits on the corner where the towpath joins the road into town. The time is unpredictable but the place is always the same. Sometimes he appears older, sometimes younger, though he always has the same face, and always makes the same offer. Cross the

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The last man

The photo sat on the mantelpiece in my grandparents house. It had always been there, on the left, over the coal fire. One of my earliest memories is of a winter afternoon, looking up at the picture and wondering about it, while I played the

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Lux in terra

Kyo swore blind he was telling the truth but Mollie didn’t believe him. None of them did. He hadn’t even got half way through his report to the class on the history of the settlement, when Mr Grable stopped him in the middle of something

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So long, Marianne

It was a year since the last time Laura went to see Marianne when the chimes rang out at midnight. I realised the date when I heard them. Remembered hanging them after the wake, out of respect for Marianne’s grandmother, who gave them to me