Lucent Dreaming issue 9 has arrived at Lucent HQ and we think it’s our best one yet. Subscribe today from only £20 to purchase your copy. Issue 9 features prose and poetry inspired by fairytale and folklore. And, to celebrate our upcoming third anniversary of issue 1 this April 28th, we’ve gone all out with a foil cover for our
After one of the toughest judging periods in our 3+ year history, we are proud to announce the winners of Lucent Dreaming’s 2020 Poetry and Short Story contests. Read the winning poems and short stories below, and in our upcoming 8th issue. Our winning pieces comprise the judges’ unforgettable favourites, often timely, some dark, and some that bring us close
I yawn and my eyesslowly kill the lightlike a doll I shut down this body is likea sleeping bagone size fits all when it falls asleepI wander for hoursin a different world sometimes a dogis chasing mebut mostly I fall with my legscaught in somethingand then I’m down stretching myselfto fit insideagain Buy issue 9 today. Lucent Dreaming is an
I sit with my back to the wall and stare at the last spot of dying light on the floor. I follow its path as it creeps like the spiders, moving with the sun as it hides for another day. The shadows in the room finally chase out the last rays, and I am once again shrouded in darkness, seeking
There has been a heatwave for days. The dog lies with its nosein the air conditioner’s face.The blinds are shut against the blazefingering the windowpanes. But no need to worry,we’ll be fine, as long asthe power stays on,and the groceries are delivered. (Although, the site is now a spinning ball, and I don’t have a number to call.) The water
I am a good person. This realisation didn’t dawn on me quickly, it was a lengthier process than that, slow and drawn-out. I suppose I always knew. Though it took longer to come to the surface, and only when I had more to compare with did I get clarity. I was probably the best person I knew. I don’t mean
Celebrities bemoan the drawbacks of being rich and famous but being poor and famous is far worse. Derek Mackintosh had, for a few years, been the former and was now very much the latter. That was why he was standing outside Costcutter, waving his arm at an approaching W7 bus to Finsbury Park, rather than hailing a taxi. As the
Amidst the black granite laden with salvers of boiled white rice, spiced okra, and seasoned mint chutney, he reiterates, “Right, Neha? Right?”and for the third time this week, I withhold the acid and concur, “Yes, daddy. I heard you the first time.” A glower simmers at the back of my throat as my mother shoots me a hardened look, “He’s
My dead grandfather visited me as a bird once. I ignored him at first. I’m not so used to bird callers, much less a dead grandparent posing as a bird, that just made a weird thing even weirder. Even before I knew it was my gramps, there was a strange intelligence about this bird. I was hastily brushing my teeth
I remember some thingsI am happy to not remember everythingMy name is GregI remember her name tooAnneshe is my motherI call her MotherI say, “it’s me Mother, Greg,” but it doesn’t come out rightshe pats me on the head and puts the leash on. Suddenly, in the street, she gives me a hug and cries into my furI know why
Abandoned as a child, Marcos Rodríguez Pantoja survivedalone in the mountains of Southern Spain for 15 years They trap voices in a box. In the beginning,I smash one to release the singing.Where are the small people?They laugh, but that is not an answer. They show a silver glassfrom which a stranger’s face stares back.Laugh more when I say: Who? I
Turtle hatchlings run towards the sea at night. Pupils fixed on the jumping glimmers of the Moon over the water—their only guide for safety. They stake their chances of survival on big numbers, on the anonymity of the crowd. Same shape, same shell, same pull to live. To move forward. Grow. Exist. There’s something endearing in their frantic attachment to
