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Competitions

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Stories

Isabelle Mumford

13
Writings
14
Followers
7
Following

Isabelle Mumford

13
Writings
14
Followers
7
Following
Shadow Sensing

Isabelle Mumford

1 min read

It was only so long before coexisting dimensions began to bleed together. Inevitable that they would weep their sorrows and guffaw their joys into one another. And it was, of course, equally natural that despite all evidence against it, humans would assume this to be a unique ability they had developed. A sixth sense.


Shadow Sensing was coined and sensationalised by a television psychic who claim...

2
1
In The Kitchen

Isabelle Mumford

1 min read

In the kitchen she fries

bacon, eggs, and her mind.

Scrambled and sunny-side down.


Fat spits in her eyes,

Sweat drops, temperate rises,

And she wishes drops in the pan were cyanide.


The kettle whistles high,

Pressure builds, they sit behind,

Scratching on papers, impatient but

Never helping.


Whistle away your song,

This songbirds long gone,

Monotony will leave you despairing.


Four boys at...

1
Contortionist

Isabelle Mumford

1 min read

I duck and I dive,

swing my arms wide

try and fly,

but you took my wings,

left lead-heavy arms,

cuffed to this box of mine.


I bend myself backwards

snap my spine,

crunch it down into a space you allow me to occupy,

I cower inside -

inside this box of mine.


You send in your spikes,

coat even this place in your plague,

make me change,

puncturing skin,

leave me to cry,

bleeding in this b...

1
supermarket radio

Isabelle Mumford

1 min read

crooked teeth, bruised knees, and capital cities sent my head spinning,

questioning things I didn’t think needed questioning.

dance down the aisle to the supermarket radio.

fluorescent lights scrutinise words that ring true,

but we don’t have to acknowledge them if you don’t want to,

not until shared smiles and looks caught across kitchen tiles make it the unavoidable conclusion.


russian wi...

Poetry

Romance

1
supermarket radio

Isabelle Mumford

1 min read

crooked teeth, bruised knees, and capital cities sent my head spinning,

questioning things I didn’t think needed questioning.

dance down the aisle to the supermarket radio.

fluorescent lights scrutinise words that ring true,

but we don’t have to acknowledge them if you don’t want to,

not until shared smiles and looks caught across kitchen tiles make it the unavoidable conclusion.


russian wi...

Trixie

Isabelle Mumford

1 min read

Trixie is a fireball of a girl - a careering clump of fire and gas, whipping flames too hot to touch, spiralling too fast to catch. Trixie is chaos.

But Trixie is also brilliance. Writing spoken word with a crumpled rollie hanging from her bitten, peeling lips. Dry curls of tobacco peaking from the end until she lights them with a practiced, calloused thumb and a plastic, neon lighter. Inhaling t...

Bloody Hipsters

Isabelle Mumford

3 min read

“Don’t kill the vibe, Graham,” Sadie trawled.


Vibe? The vibe? How does one go about killing a vibe? Do vibes have sentience now? Can you take the consciousness from a vibe? What the fuck even is a vibe?


God, Graham hated hipsters, and as someone who worked in advertisement, he was becoming increasingly surrounded by them, because, apparently, all young media students are hipsters.


Sadie was a ...

Humour

2
“Pretty, Shitty City”

Isabelle Mumford

1 min read

Heroin capital of the UK,

Eyeroll, yeah we know -

Don’t have to remind us,

They made a film about it

Or something.

“Pretty, shitty city,” it said.


We’ve got that street where the piss-ups get featured on the TV,

Lads gurning, off their faces on ecstasy,

The girls are fucking freezing in tight dresses showing off tattooed chests and nipple piercings -

They just want to get in on the interview, ...

Poetry

3
Two Bad Dates

Isabelle Mumford

6 min read

He’s called me exotic three times already and I’ve only been sat here twenty minutes. I’m a person not an item on the menu for God’s sake.


He’s talked nonstop about his life. I know he’s an accountant with two french bulldogs and his own two bedroomed home, whose favourite colour is blue (typical) and who doesn’t agree with vegans. I don’t know what he knows about me because he only stops talkin...

Romance

YA fiction

4
7
power in the proles

Isabelle Mumford

2 min read

*more of a spoken word piece*


the thing is

I can’t shut my mouth,

bite my tongue,

for one thing my pain tolerance is too low -

wouldn’t allow it.

plus I’m a taurus with a leo moon so it’s not in my astrological profile to

stand down.

go on,

come at me,

I’ll come back at you with all the rage of a million oppressed women,

beaten down, called out,

told we’re not good enough for the job,

t...

Poetry

4
3