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Fish Anthology LAUNCH
Winners
Short-list
Long-list
From all of us at Fish, thank you for entering your flashes. Congratulations to the writers who were short or long-listed, and in particular to the 11 winners whose flash stories will be published in the Fish Anthology
The launch will be during the West Cork Literary Festival, Bantry, Ireland 15 July. Venue: Marino Church, pm. It is a free event and all are welcome.
Winners
Here are the 10 winning Flash Fiction Stories, as chosen by Michelle Elvy, to be published in the FISH ANTHOLOGY
Comments on the flash stories are from Michelle, who we sincerely thank for her time and expertise.
FIRST PLACE
Messiah: by Kate OGrady
A story that feels energetic and unbound, but is finely crafted, about individual anguish and loss, and collective responsibility and guilt. The reader is caught from the very start – from the opening lines that suggest innocence alongside a m • Critic, reporter, translator, editor, novelist, poet, playwright — John Cournos (–) fulfilled all these writerly posts with distinction, if not financial success, during his nearly twenty years as an American writer in England (–). The quantity and quality of his publications testify to an ambition and aspiration no less energetic than that of his better known, compatriot friends and colleagues in England: T. S. Eliot and fellow Philadelphians H. D. and Ezra Pound. He is remembered today, most frequently, as a translator from the Russian.1 Such was not always the case. Cournos was well recognized during the s. The nine novels published between and were widely reviewed in the British and American press and quickly drew the attention of scholars and bibliographers.2 His first novel was awarded the prestigious Hawthornden Prize; the prize was withdrawn when the committee realized that Cournos was an American, • The first thing I tell her is that I cannot help. Her son Jake is thirty-four, my age. His gray, bruise-flecked limbs are splayed out on a bed before me; his mouth is dry and agape. I know I cannot help him. I cannot file a lawsuit against the insurance company, I cannot conjure a way out of this dead-end nursing home, and I cannot sucker punch the aloof psychologist or throttle the ignorant psychiatrist. I hold no sway over the waiting list in my own hospital. I explain to her that I can do nothing at all, and she sighs. She is desperate to see Jake in a program where there is a sense of progress and direction. She knows that the rehabs and specialty hospitals are as inaccessible as the moon. She has called them herself, and she knows that nobody can help. She knows I cannot help, but she asks me anyway. She asks, in all earnestness, to do the impossible and find her son a bed, and in my weakness, I agree. Its my job to agree. Mason is not a doctor; he The London Making of a Modernist: John Cournos in Babel
Abstract
A Just Recompense