Weird, Minus One House-Point

  BY CARMEN MARCUS   It was the summer of 1984 and Lady Di was just about to marry my toy gorilla, Gogo. My mum was standing watching the rain and then she did something extraordinary. She thrust her hands through the glass pane of the back door. My dad grabbed Lady Di’s (aka Barbie) long wedding train (a pillowcase) to bind my mum's wrists. Then the ambulance came and Mum was taken away and Di’s broken head was left on the floor. Children

The Writer in the Closet

 - by Eleanor Talbot I’ll be honest. I don’t really consider myself a writer. John Steinbeck is a writer. Cannery Row is so effortless and quiet that you can hardly feel yourself reading it. It’s as if you are sitting in a comfy chair with someone telling you about a set of lives been and gone. By comparison I am simply an individual who possesses the ability to hold a pen. The hope is that one day the light of the

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