Lisa Farrell

Destroyer of Men

2012-01-13T15:24:00.000Z

My short story Destroyer of Men is soon to be published in an anthology called Witch's Brew by Wicked East Press. This was one of those stories that took on a life of its own the moment I started writing it. I had a plan, but the plan bears no resemblance to the finished story!

The River

2011-07-20T20:04:00.001+01:00

My short story The River is now available to read in issue 7 of Luna Station Quarterly.

The Mother

2010-10-15T11:14:00.004+01:00

This short story is available for free download at Gypsy Shadow Publishing.

The Cursed

2010-09-19T07:30:00.003+01:00

This fantasy short story was shortlisted for the Aeon Award in 2008 and is now available to purchase from Gypsy Shadow Publishing.

Long Black Hours

2010-03-03T18:44:00.002Z

This short story is available to read on the Sleepy Orange site...

The Tale of Rauðúlfr

2010-02-07T07:02:00.011Z

This story was shortlisted for the Fish Historical Fiction Prize a few years ago, and is now available to read on readshortfiction.com.

Wedding Shoes

2009-08-23T16:39:00.007+01:00

This short story is available to read on Hackwriters, a free and independent internet magazine.

The Ghost

2009-08-02T13:59:00.012+01:00

This short story can be read at Culture Compass.

Afterlife

2009-08-02T13:59:00.006+01:00

My short story Afterlife has been published in issue 3 of Volume. I wrote this while at the UEA and workshopped it there so it's been reworked a few times. I'd class it as speculative fiction, and it's rather sad.

Shirts

2009-08-02T13:55:00.008+01:00

I'm quite proud of this one, and it's only short - read it at pulp.net.

Glass

2009-08-02T13:55:00.007+01:00

This piece has been published in a Slingink anthology:
When I said ‘no’ his face came apart in my hands. Pieces of him tore my skin so cleanly that at first I felt nothing. I stood with gashes like rows of little mouths along my fingers, dripping scarlet onto the church floor. I could see his eyes in fragments, still turned on me. His lips came to rest against my foot, and angled there he spoke the words of comfort I’d scripted for him in my nightmares long ago. He told me all the ills I could escape if I were his. So one by one I collected tiny shards in my wounded hands. A lick mixed blood and tears, allowing me to glue his parts clumsily together. He was so grateful that he swore to follow me forever. Now every way I turn I see myself reflected in his eyes, as though I’m married to a broken mirror.

Commuters

2009-08-02T13:54:00.013+01:00

This one's a bit experimental. It was published in issue 10 of Zaum.

The Spiritualist

2009-08-02T13:54:00.012+01:00

The Spiritualist is a short story about - funnily enough - a Victorian spiritualist. I workshopped it at the UEA and was happy enough with the result to submit it for inclusion in the anthology, Tesselate.