Creative Writing / 07/12/2021 Pretending

When you think about it, pretending is a natural human instinct. Everybody pretends on a regular basis. It can be seen as lying, but there’s a distinct difference. Now, I’m not quite sure what that difference is, but it’s there. You might pretend you like someone’s food so you don’t upset them or come across...

Creative Writing / 07/12/2021 Remembering

I look at the photo of us on my bedside cabinet, and wonder how long you’ve been gone, blame myself over and over and over again. Why me? Why you? What have I done to deserve this? Crying myself to sleep has become something of a nightly occurrence. The quietness of my bedroom sparks unpleasant...

Creative Writing / 07/12/2021 She was hurt

She was hurt. Worn out. So tired of the voice that consumed her, Dictated how she moved, What she ate And her relationships the voice that told her she wasn’t good enough and could never compare when she stepped on the scale got the tape measure out. She was embarrassed. Ashamed. Because she believed those...

Creative Writing / 07/12/2021 The Lingering Scent

The lingering scent of floral perfume And sultry spiced apple diffusers Telling of the autumn breeze Angelic chorus rustles in the bronzed leaves. the blankets out feeling the grooves of stitches and the mellow wool needing my skin whispers from the floorboards under my feet. the made bed, the uncluttered floor, brings me peace –...

Creative Writing / 16/11/2021 What A Wonderful Winter World

Even before you open your eyes, you know it’s brighter than usual. That something has happened overnight. Something magical. Your eyes flutter open, darting towards your bedroom window, where a sliver of light peeks through. A small smile flashes onto your face as you sit up, noticing the cold, crisp air for the first time....

Creative Writing / 16/11/2021 An Ordinary Man, and Extraordinary Day

Mr Jones liked to think that ordinary was better. If youíre ordinary, you’re neither noteworthy for being smart, nor noteworthy for being dumb; neither talented nor useless. If you’re altogether B grade, do a bit of everything relatively well, then you slide right past othersí peripheral visions. He took pride in the fact he was...

Creative Writing

Creative Writing

La Diablesse: monster of men

“Who don’t hear does feel,” a phrase drilled into Nita all her life. First as a stark warning by her parents, whose household rules she’d discarded in favour of rebellion, of putting distance between the versions of herself she wanted to be, and was expected to be. Again by her teachers, who expressed a never-ending…

Creative Writing

Memory Loss

My name is Lucy Greenland. I’m 56 years old. I have three sisters, and a brother. I had a brown Labrador called Billy. My parents were teachers. I broke my arm once whilst riding my bike. I had a red cast on for eight weeks. My favourite colour is orange. I wanted to be a…

Creative Writing

Fracture

before I realise that I am dreaming Falling i am walking to the tower, (the same I walk round every day to watch the waves come home), and all is as it should be except it’s quieter, grayer and My limbs pinned to my sides so I cannot even writhe, worm-like in the quieter gray…

Creative Writing

The Mirror

As I study the face I see before me,Old but with wisdom in those lines,The wrinkles tell a story of who they were,When they laughed, and when they cried. I look at the woman quietly sitting there,Her hair so short, fragile, and grey,Quite a contrast to the fiery red locks I had,That I walked proudly…

Creative Writing

Ladybirds

Once upon an English summerThe ladybirds inhabited my cupboard,A single wooden lockerScantily speckled with 10p tins,Musty grains and 70 proof liquor.“Accommodate them”,The platitudes of the past spoke to me“You’re now in their territory.” Once upon an English summer,In my pursuit of diligenceI set out a few strawberriesFor those that colonisedThe rest of my sustenance.“It is…

Creative Writing

Supersonic Highway Regrets

Effy felt every indentation, curve, and bump of the throttle embed itself into her skin as she jammed it down.  Half-baked sentences fizzled out and crisped away to ash in her head like burnt bacon while memories rattled and bounced around like pennies in an empty can. Behind her, the hills began to slowly vanish….

Creative Writing

Fractured Friendships

You were numb, but it had to be done. You told them straight up that you two were growing apart. That you no longer felt good for each other. They had stopped confiding in you, you knew that much, but you didn’t know why. You knew they made you feel awful, like you were walking…


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The University of East Anglia’s official student newspaper. Concrete is in print and online.

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