Monday, June 8Royal Holloway's offical student publication, est. 1986

Creative Writing

7Dec By A.L WalesNo Comments
Creative Writing

ET EGO BRUT

REBUTTAL I remember you magenta and idle, hiding in plain sight a fidget of rats in a man-suit. Did you not think I would notice?  You tremble in polyester and I have no pity for the moths like you - they know what it is they do I imagine you taut and xeroxed stretched out on linoleum  your saline drip defunct  chewing on consonants like coaxial cables your world in laminate left-slant font 
Read More
7Dec By Zaki ChanNo Comments
Creative Writing

i am

i am, as a man and asian and cognizant and selfaware and godfearing and afraid and angry and hellbent,incapable of romance, affection, love, lust, touch, being capable of not having being capable in anything of worth,and i blame it on myself and see that my hands are the things that push everything away. i am, as a fragment and chinese and broken and malay and unbending and terrible and aware and tumultuous,capable of belief, faith, friendship, telling someone to the face that they mean a lot to me and that i cannot in fact live without them,and i am in fact lying to them and see that my tongue is black with sinuous twisting lies. i am, as a white orchid and a yellow marigold and a red spider lily and a yellow chrysanthemum and decaying,incapable of thinking trust as a rock in an oc...
Read More
i probably just need to get laid and stop being so fucking dramatic
7Dec By Zaki ChanNo Comments
Creative Writing

i probably just need to get laid and stop being so fucking dramatic

im, quite aware its fairly unhealthy to think these thoguhts  but dear god we are made like you  but dear god i can see the purpose you gave us  plain in the way you make blood vessels break  in the way the human body deteriorates in the way im,  quite aware perhaps too aware of how you make it satisfying to give in to baser instincts and pleasures  i was never raised particularly religious  but i said prayers to you every night till that one time my mother told me god is perfect and then she  cried at the door and told me to be strong till she came back and i was left with the plate of macaroni  no one else but me liked but i liked it because it was my mother who made it and i would always say i  loved her to her ...
Read More
in sooth
7Dec By Alice ClarkNo Comments
Creative Writing

in sooth

in sooth, i know not why i am so sad i miss u in cerulean and orange emotional support jumper in full force one not to be reckoned with but dear god my intrusive thoughts are trying it’s not very late but i’ve got a tired ache brain ache self hate my favourite animal is you i am consumed with insatiability and itchy ankles when i open my mouth songbirds fly out which is actually very inconvenient my mouth is full of feathers and bird shit now damn that analogy i’m learning  to exist soundly love vulnerably instead burn incense until the smoke makes it smell safe again i’m too afraid to leave the house most days anxious twitch anxious twitch ghost therapist dear god i feel pathetic in my bedroom tonight Image credit: Ph...
Read More
MAGPIE
7Dec By Alice ClarkNo Comments
Creative Writing, Features

MAGPIE

o beaut magpie ! inquisitive brown eyes feathered blue heart i see u everywhere well at least i think i do sometimes when i close my eyes u are flyin above me sometimes u visit at night in my dreams u come to me singin me lullabies u tell me everythin is gonna be okay sweet thing and im tryin hard to believe u but dreams don’t talk truth no more and i can’t see ursa major no more and i can’t hear ur voice no more and i just want to hold u close let me be ur nest but ur so far away Image credit: Photo by Caroline Attwood on Unsplash
Read More
Spiking…
7Dec By Emily WindleNo Comments
Creative Writing

Spiking…

Going out should be fun with lots of drinking, Dancing away, not overthinking. But what can you miss even if you quickly blink?  The substance that was quickly put into your drink!  Our mums always told us cover it with your hand, And do not become a one man band.  Stay with your friends and don't be too late!  Otherwise you could end up with an unwanted date.  The problem with spiking is it’s not taken seriously. The victims are just looked at pitilessly. We need to do more to stop this crime.  So girls can go back to having a good time.  Image credit: Photo by Michael Discenza on Unsplash
Read More
I Do Not Write Love Poetry
16Oct By A.L WalesNo Comments
Creative Writing

I Do Not Write Love Poetry

but memoirs  on your arcs  pilings  of tobacco  peppered question  marks  morning  it is raining  paraoxysms from my crown  wordlessly you pour for me tempers tremors now dusk I am awake again here another drought I silhouette  your body softly  smoke you out Photo credits: Photo by Robert Ruggiero on Unsplash
Read More
Gutter Talk
16Oct By A.L WalesNo Comments
Creative Writing

Gutter Talk

early mornings in plettenberg bay five am & the sun was not yet high  but it was warm still and bright  plett sun is a different breed rich was by my side back then & red flocks flew west when they heard  that laugh hingeless & hungered & hollering oorah those ears car  doors on a sedan in midsummer left open to cool him down I was in Kensington when he next  called midday my time midnight his I heard the tik screech through his jangled mind & lacerate his  words discordant until the  teakettle boiled into a goodbye  & the smack of bone on tile it was a sickening sound at night I dream of africa the waves smash against my mind & the moon is still not high  ...
Read More
Bedtime Stories for a Grieving Child no. 4: Royal Holloway on Fiction
16Oct By Zaki ChanNo Comments
Creative Writing

Bedtime Stories for a Grieving Child no. 4: Royal Holloway on Fiction

His wrinkles were gone. His crows’ feet only just starting to set in, the laugh lines around his mouth less pronounced than what I was used to. He wore his starched white business shirt, sweat faintly dripping down his brow, his hair just starting to recede. There he stood in his stiff work clothes, a handkerchief just peeping out of his pocket.  “Well? Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Dad said, a hint of playfulness creeping into his voice. I smelt the cigarettes off his breath. There was pandan in the air somewhere. I tasted the ash in my mouth. He accompanied me all the way to the hospital, making small comments about the old photos that I found in his old apartment, even after he separated from Mom. He kept the different rings that they wore during their marriage, tucked ...
Read More