Writing! – Jamie Mullins

Writing

My writing explores connection, disintegration, transformation, and queer self-realisation. I enjoy dissecting the fragility of familial or conventional relationships and excavating the malice often lurking beneath theological structures. Magic can blossom from misery and holiness from horror; I am interested in unlocking the cage, cracking the looking glass, and letting broken, inhuman things tell their stories.

Short Fiction

I tuck my knees to my chest, wishing the whole bed didn’t smell of him. Even with the bathroom noise I can hear my mother crying from the guest room above us, and I imagine she’s lying on the floor with her face pressed to the carpet in the hopes that the sound keeps me awake.

swallowtail

Henry’s nightmares were filled with men in fur hats popping from the ground like weasels, staggering towards him or writhing on their bellies, armed with kitchen knives and Kalashnikovs, vomiting blood and black tar and bits of burnt grass. But the dreams never manifested…

catherine's garden

He sank slowly into the floorboards, slipping from his self-imposed shackles like molten glass tumbling from its crucible into an awaiting mould. The descendent of the sea god received him, potent and cool, and Flynn surrendered, unfurling like a white sail…

capcise

Flash Fiction

Is that real? my mother asks, emerging from the toilet with her hair in pin curlers. Of course it’s real, says my father. What’re you dressed up for?

the talking dog

The landscapers have completed the garden at my mother’s property. She gestures to the recently planted rhododendrons, forgetting she holds me in her hands.

two seconds

I think about rushing to the toilet and reimbursing the restaurant through my refusal to digest the meal I’ve wasted, maybe escaping through a window or melting into the floor like grasso d’oca…

service charge

Poetry

choked by air, how funny I must look
thrashing in your embrace, you
with earthen fingers wriggling
just above the band of my ocean stained jeans