The Gift Garden

I’m excited to share with you the cover of Kenny Mooney’s The Gift Garden (designed by the author):

This is a dark, claustrophobic novella that invites the reader to experience the same surreal atmosphere as its narrator. The border between his apartment and psyche blur, poison saturates, and human contact begins to fade.

The language here – word choice, repetition, rhythm – is stunning. A prose poetry fever dream with a growing sense of dread…

This title was originally published in 2017 by Flat Field Press, but Orchid’s Lantern are lucky enough to have acquired the rights for re-issue and to bring this to ebook for the first time. It will be released on 23rd May 2023.

You can pre-order the paperback from our store (with free P&P within the UK) here.

You can pre-order the Kindle edition from Amazon here.

You can add The Gift Garden to your Goodreads list here.

If you have a book blog/vlog and would like a review copy of this or any of our other titles, please send us an email to make your request.

And you can read an interview with the author here.

Do tell us what you think in the comments! Do you like the cover? Are you intrigued by this title?

May 8, 2023 0

Flash Showcase: Telescope by Joe Howsin

Eyes open, fists clenched; teeth grinding, limbs limp; a shape, a shift; a whimper, a cry; a scream. This is how I wake up each morning. With routine, the terror I feel towards the shadow in the corner has dulled. No longer sharp, it is merely an ache. Yet still, each morning, I scream.

These days I don’t know why I get up at all. There is no job to go to, no friends to see. Maybe it’s for the coffee, or to escape the shadow.

Have you ever sat completely still because to move would be to hurl yourself into a rage? My blood thickens, lapping in viscus waves against straining eardrums. Electricity arcs across my muscles and burns me from the inside out. I twitch and jitter, shaking the cupboards, rattling plates, smashing a mug. I sink to my knees and collect the shattered rabbits lying in pieces on the kitchen floor. Their blood is thin and watery: a light brown fluid smelling faintly of earth and milk. I cry in shuddering tides over ceramic wildlife as the electricity continues to burn.

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January 2, 2022 0

Flash Showcase: Fritter by David Lawrie

The story only ever goes one way.

The fragment reads:

“…and I leave you now as you left me, with nothing but wretched words and bleeding ink. I do not understand your letters anymore, Hombre. They may loop from your pen with indubitable grace but I receive them with a senseless mediocrity. I will not accept the blame of you. I will always be behind you, Hombre. I am all over you. It is senseless imprisonment, and I, who have never wronged you, who saw nothing beyond the kindness in your heart, I am the one serving my sentence in your shadow.

I am watching your progress with the control that I have yearned for.

It is in my pain that I will haunt you so. And it is with lustful violence that I shall one day rise up, a malevolent presence over you. As my ink stains the purity of this parchment now, so shall I stain the fabric of your immortality. You will not be able to shake my ghost. You will not be able to claw the words of my testament from…”

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August 22, 2021 0