1. The Sea-Hag’s Revenge

   By Kim Russell

   On a raging sea-magic day,

   thunder clouds and wind-whipped waves

   made us forget the salty witch.

   Anticipating handsome men snatched

   by squalls from a schooner’s pitch,

   we combed out tangles in waist-length hair,

   spread glistening fish-tails on rocks, unaware

   of the sea-hag’s envy.

   Whirled into frenzy,

   her magic, green as seaweed,

   flipped us upside-down.

   Brine coursed through gills,

   made legs and feet of tantalising tails,

   and we emerged, a shimmering shoal of sisters,

   no longer haunting rocky shores

   or admiring hair in seashell mirrors.

   Without honeyed voices to charm men,

   we are fish out of water to the bitter end.

2. End of the Line

   By Nicki Blake

   ‘Do you mind? I only have a couple of things.’

   When I nod, she pushes her trolley past me. I stare at the nappies, formula, jars of baby food, the blue-eyed baby in the trolley seat. 

   ‘Ooh, I might just grab this too,’ she takes a chocolate bar from the display, ‘My cravings are absolutely shocking this time around.’ 

   She pats her belly and winks.

   I look down at the floor and don’t look up again until they have gone.

   Then I empty my basket and watch as the cashier scans my items. 

   Ice cream, red wine, painkillers, tampons.

3. Casting for Bigger Fish in the Sea

   By Emily Macdonald

   She fishes for my husband. Flirting, she thinks, in a subtle way. Furtively reeling or offering herself, live bait, in extravagant openness.  Look!  Nothing to see.  A barbless hook!

   She studies me critically. Jealously measures and weighs advantages like testing a whet finger in the wind, the balance bobbing in her head.

   I feed him to her, letting out the line in small degrees.  It keeps her keen — keeps him keen too — and he’s grateful for my steady ship.  I’m a homing berth, a compass that stays, barely flickering on the course.

   It blinds them both to my own fishing.

4. The House of the Seven Deadlies

   By Coleen Van Staden

   They live there without me. The six. I burn just out of reach.

   I want what they have.

   Lips licking gravy from heaving tables, lips lusting on heaving beds.

   I covet.

   Rich velvet walls of jewel-encrusted  opulence,  the lethargy and idleness of sleep on civet fur.

   I weep.    I want.   I beg.

   Vitriol to spit my wrath, that crown of god-like pride, meant  for me to wear.  Only me.

   I yearn through keyholes, cracks, latticed windows,  floorboards and dusty air vents. Bile-drenched, my skin crawls lizard green. I am deadly just like them, but they won’t let me in

   …. yet.

5. Best Sisters

   By Kathryn Clover

   Auburn curls, raven waterfall.

   Each desired the other.

   So one said;

   “Sister, I detest your

    Hissing orange hornet's nonsense.”

   And the other said;

   “O Sister, I loath to look upon your oily slick.”

   So, they took up razors;

   Carried out their plan

   In the cracked prism

   Of their uncle's bathroom mirror.

   Then laughing, screaming

   In that slow rain of hair, they

   Made wigs of each other.

6. Wild

   By Liz Dickinson

   In real life, she was mousy. The camera filtered her mousiness, from girl-next-door to star.

   Before fame arrived in a golden carriage, she enjoyed wild swimming.

   The sun tiptoeing round silver birches, the light diluted in the charcoaled river. She held her own current, racing sticklebacks.

   She felt the danger of the river by the curve of her spine.

   The paparazzi clicked, zoomed and barked like heinous, unforgiving shadows.

   Mama said there’d be days like this:

   when fame feels like a storm in a fish bowl.

   She wished she’d chosen the river, purveyor of all things wild.

The group chose ‘End of the Line’ as their favourite. Congratulations to Nicki Blake!