I thought I had my first panic attack at the age of nineteen. On the last day of a trip to America with Julie, I started to feel unwell, for no particular reason. If you have suffered a panic attack, you will be familiar with the symptoms. The feeling of ‘not being there’, as if a film has covered your eyes and things are being seen from a distance.

Freedom From Fear. Well, that would be nice, wouldn’t it? Imagine a life without fear. No anxiety, no distressing adrenaline releases, nothing to be frightened of. Now imagine standing at a busy road, seeing a truck hurtling down the inside lane and stepping out in front of you. Imagine being hit by it. Imagine that. Why would you do such a thing? What on earth possessed you to put yourself directly in front of a seven-ton truck doing 50 miles per hour? It is because you hav

A Murder of Crows.Tommo, Thomas really, but Tommo is his preferred choice of name, leaves his place of work after a hard day of toil. It is a ghastly factory in an even more ghastly area, but it pays the way in the world. First, he is on the small machines and then, at the hands of a malicious foreman who thinks he should do better, the big machines. The ones that really test you, ones you are only supposed to work for a couple of hours, but no, his boss sees to it he is on t

The Wrong Coloured Coat, a True Story I sat on the train home very happy with both myself and my purchase. A lone trip out from North Wales to Manchester, to the semi-famous underground market where I parted with my hard-earned money, my wage packet from my father’s factory slightly bulging with overtime, but soon to be emptied in exchange for my return ticket, a small coffee and my new pride and joy. A leather jacket, the type I had had my eye on for some months and now, th

Elephant, a short work of fiction, by Simon Morrell “When I was three years old, maybe almost four, I was fascinated by a carving my parents had on their living room wall. I knew I was this age because we had yet to leave the Merseyside area where I was born.   The carving in question was a beautiful work of art of an elephant and a calf, a full 3d wooden affair, tusks and all.   The piece didn’t make the journey to live with us in North Wales with us, some months later,

I’m Jack. That’s the name I go by for sure. I’m Jack, and I’m one of five siblings. The good one. The other four aren’t worth Jack s**t. Ha ha, no pun intended. I’m sober today. For now anyway, but it is only ten o’clock in the morning. Give it time. So the siblings, how about them? Who cares, but you did ask, didn’t you? Eldest one. Lawyer, don’t you know? Clever arse. As many bedrooms in his house as we are siblings. That’s five in case you weren’t paying attention.

"Don't Hit Him In The Head!" Fifteen years of age, seven stone and already terrified of life and with a blinking habit that attracts the...

A lot of us crave a new start, a life away from the small town that defines us. Not everyone makes it and in all fairness, not everyone wants to. This girl does though. This big sister is desperate for her new place in the world.

From the age of five, I was bullied and beaten right up until my early twenties. All manner of boy and man would, could and did hit me at will, but by far the worst of the bunch was a skinhead I’ll call Joe.   

A Bike, A Son and A Father. To the son, the father said this. “Here is the bike, now hear the people.” The people applauded as the father...