Welcome to the inaugural issue of LossLit Magazine. Following a successful launch of the #LossLit collaborative writing project on Twitter in 2014, we’re delighted for the first time to bring together a collection of long-form creative works inspired by loss, by a host of talented and prize-winning writers across short story, poetry and essay-writing.
Excitingly, LossLit has been shortlisted for the Saboteur Awards 2015 in the category ‘Best Collaborative Work’!
My brother and I go down to Alex’s health food store on Broadway. It’s the first health food store in Washington Heights. There’s a rope of bells on the door that jingles when you open the door.
I found a photo in your top drawer,
now I understand what you kept it locked for.
between two people competing
My head is the government, the seat of authority.
It makes speeches and press releases,
Says the right thing to all who enquire:
“I’ll be fine, I’m sure, in time.”
The week before we moved into the haunted house, my wife’s granddad had a stroke. When his head hit the floor, his frail skull cracked like an eggshell. He was 96 years old. There was nothing that could be done, they said. They had to let him go.
I’m lost in a new poem. You can tell I’m lost because you’ve seen me playing in the Facebook sandpit. Today out walking I saw humans doing activities, difficult things
Naked as late autumn branches, memories scattered upon
the pavements of London’s twisted streets, like blood
after a pub fight; dirtied and downtrodden.
You would have loved the roar that erupted in the back of the truck when Stojan told us we’d arrived at the summit. Even though I couldn’t see it yet, I could sense the building. And I knew that ever since those guys from Sofia told us about it
Just this morning I was at work, drinking coffee with that powdered cream that has too many ingredients, when I smelled the unmistakable odor of singed hair—an odor that, if you’re familiar with it, you’re instantly able to place.
‘I’ve been cataloguing ornithological data, folders and boxes and filing cabinets: every dead bird washed up on Orkney beaches 1976-2012, the location of each arctic skua on the island of Hoy in 1982.