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The Pigeon
Faraaz Mahomed
‘The pigeon and I have a very warm and comfortable relationship.’ 2016 Commonwealth Short Story Prize – regional winner for Africa.
Pure Gold
John Patrick McHugh
‘That icy fear of the morning after slithered back: why does summer always feel like it belongs to someone else?’
Our Private Estate
Dave Lordan
‘Dozens of votive candles held aloft by mourners in white suits in procession. So much white, as if death could be engulfed in it, as if death itself was not an all-engulfing whiteness.’
Cow and Company
Parashar Kulkarni
‘And now there were four of them stepping out to look for a cow.’ 2016 Commonwealth Short Story Prize overall winner.
Mayo Oh Mayo
Nuala O’Connor
‘Tonight there is a moon-rind, a nicotined fingernail, hanging low over the lake; above it, a Swarovski sparkler of a star.’
Black Milk
Tina Makereti
‘Despair sat on her shoulders where her wings should have been. Darkness consumed her, the quivering lip of a dying abalone, grease in the barrel of a gun.’ 2016 Commonwealth Short Story Prize – regional winner for the Pacific.
Here We Are
Lucy Caldwell
‘‘Here we are,’ she said, as we faced each other, and my whole body rushed with goosebumps.’
Mr Salary
Sally Rooney
‘My love for him felt so total and so annihilating that it was often impossible for me to see him clearly at all.’
The Visitor
Colin Barrett
‘The dog was some sort of overbred weedling with a ribcage fine-boned as a chicken’s, a wizened rat’s face and a goony, perpetually bloodshot stare that made Dev Hendrick want to punt the thing over the garden gate.’
Green, Mud, Gold
Sara Baume
‘She shuts her eyes and pictures ears growing out through her ears, her spine turning to wood, pictures herself as a girl-woman scarecrow, arms opened wide, and nailed to two posts in the centre of a great green, mud and gold expanse, crucified.’
The Birds of June
John Connell
‘Her dreams were interrupted occasionally by the sound of the cow and her newborn calf from the outhouse sheds. A low bellow would crinkle the folds of her mind and then seconds later it would be answered from some other shed in the distance.’
All We Shall Know
Donal Ryan
‘Thoughts sharpen themselves on the flints of one another and pierce me like a knife in my middle, sunk deep and twisted around.’
