Browse our creative non-fiction ebooks....

Creative Non-Fiction is a comparatively new genre of writing that uses literary style and craft to tell stories that are factually accurate. It is the incorporation of craft and style that separates the genre from journalism which primarily focuses on a more spare account of the facts. This genre includes short stories which may take forms such as autobiography, biography, memoir, personal essays, and travel or food writing.

Boxed In
Leela Soma
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It is about the plight of many children working in the Fireworks factories in India. It is important that the voices of such people are heard through literature.
Octopus
Vivien Jones
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We lived in Sliema at 197 Prince of Wales Road in a two storey apartment reached from a ground floor staircase that curved high and tight upwards. There was a graceful banister that ended in a tight curl at the bottom and it was my ambition to slide down its entire length, but it was forbidden. What if I fell off ? What if my little brother copied me ?
Spit and Promise
Vivien Jones
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It was sweltering in the NAFFI hut. Father Christmas sat sweating, legs akimbo, showing his navy drill shorts and bare legs under the long red robe. He wore huge white plimsolls. His legs were damp and covered with ginger swirls of hair and his white beard had slipped sideways so you could see his stubbled chin and the spray of freckles beneath. I noticed that his hands were huge, not, I was sure, the size of hands the real Father Christmas would have.....
Grandma and Polly
Vivien Jones
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My mother always said I didn’t notice much but in those last week in Malta even I felt urgency like a held breath over everything. My sister and I were despatched to our room to clear out just about everything because of the weight restriction on the plane and we fell to quarrelling about whether her ballet books were more important than my drawing books....
Catacombs
Vivien Jones
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‘ I don’t want to go.’ I was adamant, inclined to render myself boneless, sink to the floor and become lead. My mother glared at me. ‘You’ll get your socks dirty if you lie on the floor. And we are all going.’ She would have sounded cold to a stranger, but this was an old tactic of mine that was exhausting its credibility. Perhaps I had been overusing it. I was nine after all. My Father looked in....
Pinky Pants
Vivien Jones
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I tipped forward, one leg curled round the metal bar and the sky spun under me, rocking into place at my feet. I hooked my free leg onto the bar, trailed my arms close to the ground, blew my hair out of my face and examined the world upside down. I had finished my story and been allowed out of class early so I was temporarily queen of the climbing bars and all I surveyed.....
The Feast of Saint Agatha
Vivien Jones
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Theresa says the Virgin in the Church of Saint Agatha has been seen weeping. Theresa is very excited. She calls her ‘ Santa Agatha.’ It is Saint Agatha’s Feast Day on Friday and the procession will pass up Prince of Wales Road, where I live. This is destiny because Friday is my birthday so I must have an affinity with Saint Agatha....
Tomato Sauce
Vivien Jones
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' A bowl of freshly picked tomatoes. That’s all it took. Just carrying them from the larder to the kitchen filled her head with sensual images, square white buildings, bright paper kites in the deepest blue sky, tanned faces, ramshackle single decker buses, a different colour for each destination. Blue for Rabat, green for Sliema, mustard yellow for Bershibuga. She didn’t know the spellings, just the Moorish sounds.'
Waiting for Sister Constance
Jenny Vaughan
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This is the story a day in the life of eleven-year-old Sara. Like thousands of other children in southern Africa, she’s an orphan, and she’s looking after her younger brothers and sisters. A kindly nun, Sister Constance, is due to visit the family today – but she’s late, and Sara is getting worried. Will she come? What if she doesn’t? Why hasn’t she come? What will the children do if Sister Constance doesn’t turn up?
Under The Big Sky
Lynn Todd
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There's a fragrance in the air as I stand under the big sky spanning the driest state in the Great South Land. As the scorching north wind whispers around me stirring the leaves of the gums and the mallee the scent of eucalyptus drifts past my nose and I am surprised to feel a sense of homecoming.
Success
Jeanne Valentine
£2.49 Added
What is the price of fame?
Love
F. Linday
£1.29 Added
In July 2010, this story won first prize in the Unique Writing Publication's 'Love' competition.The non fiction prose tells of family love and the heartache around miscarriage. The tale is hopeful and honest. Family humour has to click in as does the acceptance of support on many levels. A tale of faith.
Milk Crates For Fists
Adam Glennon
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A memoir piece told in the historical present about a drug fuelled night during the nineteen nineties.
 
 

 

 

 

   

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