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Burning House Press welcomes Florence Lenaers as our first guest editor!

From 1st February 2018 and for that whole month Burning House Press online will be edited by our very first guest editor – the amazing Florence Lenaers!

More info on submission details forthcoming – stay tuned – and a massive welcome to Florence to BHP!!! Prepare to send Florence your work…

Updates…

Coming soon for 2018 on BHP – guest editors/open submission calls/and books books books…

An Experimental Conversation with Writer Erin Calabria

by Amee Nassrene Broumand

 

ANB: Autumn begins to pulse from leaf to flavescent leaf, beading—here and there—into cardioid splashes of pomegranate. The hum of the forest alters. Over the hills, in a dilapidated garden choked with honeysuckle vines gone wrong, sunbeams curve down upon a mud-eaten shoe. In places such as these, even saints grow timid.

EC: Currents of light and wind thread a passage. I trail my hands through the leaves, and they come away doused in bergamot, verbena, thyme, traces of care still scattered in this tangled place, death not reversed but charmed into a feral green. I crush rosemary needles between my teeth, think how I must have gone wild too early, trying to possess some other shape. The wind pushes me like a weathervane through the bramble, up to the hollow brink where a house once stood. A granite threshold left sunk in the ground marks where ghosts should step. How can it be the only things that seem real to me now are ruins. Continue reading “An Experimental Conversation with Writer Erin Calabria”

Book Publication Announcement

Burning House Press are excited to announce that our first book publication forthcoming in 2018 will be ‘Gospel Of Aberration’ by Rob True – his first full collection of stories. More details to come.

 

‘Relax’ by A.G. Kayman

Relax

‘Ye’re so fuckin tense,’ he says. An in ma heid Ah’m like, whit the fuck, if ye want tae make somebdy less tense then the worst thing ye kin say is ‘Ye’re so fuckin tense’. Ah mean, whit guid is that gonnae dae?

Ah actually feel like sayin that tae him, bit Ah dinnae want tae end up back oan the rock ‘n’ roll, so fuck that fur a game o soadjurz. Jist huv tae grin an bear it Ah suppose – minus the grin obviously.

‘Seriously, man, jist relax,’ he says. ‘Ivryhin’s easier when ye relax, take it fae me.’

Ah take a deep breath an look at the flair. ‘Yes, chef,’ Ah say.

‘Look at me when ye’re talkin tae me,’ he says. Continue reading “‘Relax’ by A.G. Kayman”

‘1st Weekend’ by Terence Corless

1st Weekend

 

Billy and Ian are walking along opposite sides of the high street in Cambridge, pretending to throw an imaginary ball across the cars that glide by in the darkness. It’s really windy so if there was a ball, it would have flown off in the wrong direction by now, but these boys don’t seem that concerned by the laws of reality at the moment – the party in their fuzzed up heads is much better than what’s going on out here. Continue reading “‘1st Weekend’ by Terence Corless”

The Arsonist Magazine Launch Party Thursday 22nd June 2017 @ The Chameleon Arts Cafe Nottingham (- in pictures words and film)

arsonistlaunch22.6.1711arsonistlaunch22.6.1717arsonistlaunch22.6.1716arsonistlaunch22.6.1715arsonistlaunch22.6.1710 Continue reading “The Arsonist Magazine Launch Party Thursday 22nd June 2017 @ The Chameleon Arts Cafe Nottingham (- in pictures words and film)”

The Arsonist Magazine Editon 01 Now Available For Purchase!!!

The Arsonist Magazine Edition 01 – available to purchase here

Image of The Arsonist Magazine Edition 01
Flammable materials from 32 incandescent international poets writers artists and photographers.

Featuring the best poetry, flash fiction, photography, art, interviews and features from around the world, including the UK, Japan, Canada, USA, Malaysia, India, Philippines, Sweden:

stephanie roberts – Saquina Karla C. Guiam – Penny Goring – Adrianna Robertson – Anneghem Wall – Dawn Fredericks – badpoem – Dean Lilleyman – Antony Owen – Aina Izzah – Bruno Neiva – Paul Hawkins – Keith Ford – Joseph Ridgwell – Dhiyanah Hassan – C. R. Resetarits – Rob True – Sophie Pitchford – Jamie Thrasivoulou – Martin Appleby – Liz Zumin – Siddharth Dasgupta – Ben Williams – Caitlin Meredith – Adam Steiner – Jim Gibson – V.M. – Fredric Nord – Mark Goodwin – Hiromi Suzuki – Trevor Wright – Howie Good

The Arsonist Magazine Edition 01 is a 92 page full colour/b&w matt/gloss perfect-bound A5 magazine (this is a limited edition and, being the inaugural print publication from Burning House Press, is sure to be a collectible item)

 

The Arsonist Magazine Edition 01 – available to purchase here

 

Arsonist Contents Page

LAUNCH EVENT FOR THE ARSONIST MAGAZINE EDITION 01

The Arsonist Magazine Edition 01 will be officially launched on Thursday 22nd June at Nottingham’s Chameleon Arts Cafe!

The magazine has been printed, is looking fantastic, and will soon be available from our online shop.

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The launch event is free entry, and will feature an open mic, and readings by contributors from the magazine, headlined by Derby’s finest, Jamie Thrasivoulou!

Really hope to see you there – copies of the Arsonist will be available for purchase on the night – see you there! XX

‘Shoot Out At The Neon Express’ by Simon Woodward

Some cold Jan morning Cruz and I were sitting at a Neon Express coffee bar, mouthing off about BlackGenie’s latest album cover; mirrored vinyl shining through star shaped perforations in the polyplas sleeve, a mini constellation in the shape of the BG’s glyph. Cruz strongly disagreeing with the criticism that I’m laying down on the lack of artistry “…any one can just cut a bit of the sleeve out to show the vinyl underneath, but what’s the story… you know ?. This album is about something, so why don’t they make a picture of it ?, this isn’t album art it’s packaging design man…!” after gulping his stale Mericano Cruz casually wiped his mouth and replies “you think with your eyes too much bud…”, sighing I put the album down on the counter and reach for my quadro espresso. “you know what I’m saying Cruz, I know you do…” Continue reading “‘Shoot Out At The Neon Express’ by Simon Woodward”

“Tell me what you know.” – by Jonathan Taylor

the following story contains content relating to self-harm which could be triggering to some readers

 

“Tell me what you know.”

 

“I don’t know anything.”

            “Tell me how you feel then.”

            “Honestly, I don’t feel anything. Please. Please don’t. Fucking hell. Please don’t do that.” Continue reading ““Tell me what you know.” – by Jonathan Taylor”

‘First Class Stamp’ by Nick Black

First Class Stamp

 

Terence Stamp in ‘Far From The Madding Crowd’, that’s who I think of as the doctor pokes about my ancient lady bits. Terence Stamp in his cavalry outfit on a hillside, jacket red as rose hip. It’s a nicer picture, that, than the top of this doctor’s head, all mottled like the backs of my hands. No, it’s worse, more like the bottom of a teacup with the floaty bits left. He wants to be careful with that. Continue reading “‘First Class Stamp’ by Nick Black”

‘Just Pull It Out’ by Peter Jordan

Just Pull It Out

 

The doctor was getting younger, by the minute. And I kept telling him I recognized him from somewhere.

The more I sucked on the gas the more I knew him, and the younger he got. When I’d first come in he was middle-aged. Now he was early twenties. We’d shared an experience together, we were good mates, didn’t he know that?

There was sweat on his forehead, his top lip.

He looked to the nurse. ‘We need to call a surgeon.’ Continue reading “‘Just Pull It Out’ by Peter Jordan”

‘Jem’ by Kate Jones

Jem

 

‘Bet I can climb to the top’, Jem Mason says, round blue eyes burning in a sun-touched, freckled face. We all stare up at the roof of the almost finished house.

‘No way,’ Cory Sullivan says.

‘Bet you three strawberry laces I can,’ Jem says, already pacing towards the gates of the building site.

The bet was on. Continue reading “‘Jem’ by Kate Jones”

2 Poems & 2 Flash Fictions by Aina Izzah

Less Than Human

 

Get lost,

Less human than me,

I’ll go to sleep,

In thousands of movements,

Under the eyes of heaven,

Amounts to devils I can’t see,

 

I could pray,

For a life more humane,

I should cry,

Hands stained with sin,

And get on running,

To the East, Continue reading “2 Poems & 2 Flash Fictions by Aina Izzah”

3 Stories by Rob True

Magpies, Re-runs and Lost Time

 

Carl sat there, on the sofa, mesmerised by the sound of magpies. Their clicking calls like rattle clackers at a football match in the old days. He watched them swoop and dive, attacking the screaming songbirds, relentless egg raids one after another. Thieving and hunting, blue, black and white blurs. That clicking noise, against the midday silence, soothed him into magic trance. Turning his attention back to the TV playing an episode of Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em, he grinned at Frank annoying some poor bastard in a shop. But as Frank nervously caused another calamity, something went wrong with the telly. The screen didn’t look right. Carl focused, squinting and, as the soft fuzz sharpened, he realised he was looking at the skirting in a corner of the room. Continue reading “3 Stories by Rob True”

The Arsonist Magazine – Coming Soon

The Arsonist Magazine edition 01 – featuring flammable materials from 30 international writers artists photographers – Coming Soon

‘Halfway Up The Street’ – an extract from the novel ‘Billy and The Devil’ by Dean Lilleyman

Halfway Up The Street

 

She stops to light a fag, watches some sparrows fight over batter-bits, left by a slow-blown chip-paper that tumbleweeds across the Courthouse grass.

From the pavement she squints to make out the headline exclaiming Sandie Shaw a winner.

She drags deep on her fag, exhales, puts both hands back on the pram and starts walking, steering around a curled mound of dog muck.

Jean and her sisters watched the Eurovision on their new second-hand black and white TV on Saturday night, bought by her mam the weekend before from a woman at work.

Jean and her sisters gasped when Sandie’s microphone didn’t work at first, and then moved as one to the edge of the new second-hand settee when Sandie’s voice came through loud and clear.

Jean would like her hair cut like Sandie’s, but for now she wears it in a beehive.

She stoops by the cenotaph to pull the backs of her sandals up, and to stop her heart beating fast she sings the first line of Sandie’s chorus, almost breathing it into the mouth of the pram.

Say you love me madly, I’ll gladly, be there.

She frowns, drags on her fag, then starts reading the blackened names on the cenotaph.

For those who fell.

She gets as far as Evans G, then understands these names mean nothing to her, and placing one hand on the pram, she moves on in slow measured steps, fag in mouth, using her free hand to check her hair.

In the mirror this morning she thought she looked older. This is something she wants, and has been practising an older face. The older face doesn’t smile.

She takes her fag out and glances down to her belly and legs as she walks. In her brown suede miniskirt her belly has lost its little pudding, and she thinks her legs have gained nothing after the birth.

In the distance, the Post Office clock looks like it reads a quarter to one, but she can’t be sure without her glasses.

Jean puts the brake on the big old pram and moves around to the side of it, peering into the flaky chrome struts that hold the hood up. Her black eyeliner is thick today, and her slate-grey eyes stare back between curls of peeling silver.

She rubs the loose flakes off and wishes she had a new pram.

When the woman from the Social came to tell her someone had donated a used pram and did she want it, Jean felt happy. She walked all the way across town to a big old house to collect it. The woman who was donating the pram smiled at Jean, but she could tell the woman was judging her.

Jean’s mam warned her people would be like this when she came home with the baby.

Jean knew this anyway.

Lifting the brake with the toe of her sandal, Jean and the pram move off slowly. She still has quarter of an hour until she meets Mick, and Mick is always late.

Her heart starts beating faster again when she thinks of him, and she hates herself for not being strong and calm like an older woman would.

She parks the pram by the bench and sits down, pulling her skirt down lower.

Stamping her fag out, she remembers Mick’s face when she told him she was pregnant. She remembers the flicker of shock in his eyes, the blink, then the grin, the Oh well I suppose we’d best get married then.

Continue reading “‘Halfway Up The Street’ – an extract from the novel ‘Billy and The Devil’ by Dean Lilleyman”

5th Weekend – TJ Corless

5th Weekend

 

We’re in this old converted fire station and Sean is on stage doing a speech about how he draws inspiration from nostalgia and the working class and his mates and how his art means everything to him and how he’s so happy that we all came out to support him. He finishes and the hall full of a good few hundred people erupts with applause and cheers. He jumps off the stage and these four skinny lads get on the instruments and start thrashing out this punky song. Continue reading “5th Weekend – TJ Corless”

Submissions open – 1st Edition of The Arsonist Magazine

SUBMISSIONS FOR THE 1ST EDITION OF THE ARSONIST MAGAZINE NOW OPEN – SEND US YOUR BEST – CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU MADE X

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