138 x 216mm




£8.99 + P&P UK


ISBN 978-1-912876-23-5


PUB: 23/09/2019











Rosi Gemmell, Jasmin Williams and Oz Hardwick



“We like to think life is reliable, organised and tamed:  emails, timetables and spreadsheets suggest this is true. But dig a little deeper and everywhere are signs of the uncanny, the odd, the unsettling. This anthology pokes  beneath the surface. It is full of shadows, creaking floorboards, silent animals, Russian Dolls and boiling waters, reminding us that life is not as safe as we like to think. A selection of eerie and powerful writing.”  

Miles Salter  


“This eclectic mix of prose and poetry gathers together a wealth of talent, from established to emerging writers. A perfect collection to dip in and out of, providing food for thought and capturing universal moments of light and dark.”  

Ali Harper




LTU Wordspace logo amend 2

Her – Rebecca Whittaker


Always in his mind. She is there;

stirring leaves that litter his head.

There’s a threat of darkening days,

lingering nights. Who is this creature?

Why is she there?


Bare, leafless, she sneaks between trees.

He finds her – not yet small enough

to shed her skin and blend with bark.

He cannot shake her from the boughs,

even when he tries.


She picks flowers, whose roots tangle

in his rational mind: creeping,

cultivating, conspiring.

She dreams amidst the daisies and she

will not fade away.


Like a siren come seductress,

basking in full view, there she sings

his ethereal elegy.

His soft and haunting elegy.

His life tied to her.






Afterlife – Maria Stephenson


Staring forth into darkness,

he informs me

“being dead is like going to sleep.”

“No one really knows,” I reply.

Clicking off the radio, he insists he does.


Each night, tired books drop at bedsides,

a lamplight switch is flicked

then final waking thoughts are filtered

before falling into the black depth

of nothingness.


“No!” I argue. “It’s not like that.

Sleep is a time of light

where growth and renewal take place,

dreams are processed,

eyelids flutter like cobwebs

and smiles skirt lips.”


“That’s not true.”

With a shake of his head,

he switches the music back on,

humming a tune

whilst gazing into oblivion.