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Kirsty Logan

Hello! I’m Kirsty Logan, a writer of novels and short stories. My books are Things We Say In The Dark, The Gloaming, The Gracekeepers, A Portable Shelter, and The Rental Heart & Other Fairytales.

Latest News

Kirsty Logan

Hello! I’m Kirsty Logan, a writer of novels and short stories. My books are Things We Say In The Dark, The Gloaming, The Gracekeepers, A Portable Shelter, and The Rental Heart & Other Fairytales.

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In Our House By the Sea at Found Press

23rd Jan 2011 in Thievery

inourhousebythesea

I’m super-excited to say that my story, ‘In Our House By the Sea’, is now available at Found Press! I’m joined by the madly talented Cynthia Flood, Danny Goodman, and Lana Storey (seriously, go and check out Lana’s work – she’s too cute for words).

Here’s an extract of my story:

The radio crackles its way along chart hits whose lyrics I didn’t even know I knew. You dance around the kitchen, your bare toes sliding on the blue linoleum squares. I sit at the table, the backs of my thighs sticking to the wooden chair, my feet sweating a little in my wool socks. The cat winds between my ankles, then retreats to the warmth of our empty bed when I fail to scratch behind his ears.

Outside the morning sun is struggling through patchy clouds, flashing on and off like a faulty light bulb. The kitchen smells of clean laundry and hot butter. You reach up to get the eggs out of the fridge, and I see that you’re wearing that underwear I used to love: the hot-pink leopard-print ones, cut like little shorts so that the cheek of your bottom peeps out. When we first started seeing each other, you’d wear those when you thought I was going to see them. I know that because you told me.

You’ve put on a bit of weight since then, and they’re tighter than they were. This only serves to reveal more of the peach-round curve, and all I want to do is cup my palms around that perfect sphere so that the tips of my fingers press into your heat. The oversized t-shirt you’re wearing barely skims the tops of your thighs, and every time you move I get a little flash of hot-pink leopard-print. I slouch down in my chair: a lower vantage point might reveal another inch.

You glance over at me and I realise how strange I must look: lolling at the kitchen table in my fluffy socks, my pyjama top unevenly buttoned. You dance over to me, the pan of scrambled eggs still in your hand, and kiss me like I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Also, check out the Found Press site for an extract and some extremely kind blurbs from the beautiful Ms. Amber Sparks, the eternally charming Mr. Ewan Morrison, and the sultry Mme. Shanna Germain.

Mega-thanks to Jacqueline and Bryan for putting together such a shit-hot website.

Don’t forget to pop back and let me know what you think of the story!

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