Stories That Linger
Peter Moulding, originally from Peterborough, UK, has lived in Berlin for nearly a decade. He crafts sharp, uncanny fiction that is both visceral and subtly subversive, often blending the speculative with the historical. Though early in his writing career, he has quickly garnered recognition, with his work appearing in River Holme Connections (with an audio recording by a voice actor) and twice in Free Flash Fiction, and receiving shortlistings from The Writing District and Creative Writing Ink, as well as a longlisting from New2TheScene. Peter studied Literature at Birkbeck, University of London, and continues to hone his craft through workshops and mentorship.Contact: peter.moulding1[at]gmail.com
Recognition and Works
Crash
Published in Free Flash FictionRunning Between Those Mills
Published and recorded by River Holme ConnectionsHe Woke Before His Da
Published in Free Flash FictionWhat the Desert Takes
Longlisted by New2TheSceneStranded
Longlisted by New2TheSceneThe Goats in the Desert
Shortlisted by Creative Writing Ink and The Writing District
Excerpts
"He writes me, you know. He calls me flower too, and Ann. He says he’s fine. He says it's all alright, part from the flies and the smell. It’s a noisy business. He says the weather is simply awful, raining day after sodding day. He says the snow was gone a month back, but now he’s dreaming of home in the springtime. He says he knows what it's like down by the river this time of year. There’s a calm spot we like way from the mill. He’ll be glad of a few lines when I have time, to hear the latest about life here. Well darling I don’t know much more to say, so will close with fondest love, Jack."
- From Running Between Those Mills
"The implant of Quiet was quick and painless. We were out of the clinic in under two hours. It was a gift for her fiftieth. They make the first cut along the dorsal column and the second inside the ear. The two implants work in sync, enhancing* neural activity, to provide the effects desired–a sustained state of perceptual silence."
- From The Gift of Silence
"Opening the door in the early light. A shimmer of gold across the puddled rolling land. A ripple of starlings."
- From Untitled
Wrought Iron LifeAlong with the laughter the light of the land leaves
Down the valley they fought for nothing and all
The houses stand caught in time
The shoulder of her daughter moving with the music
Short on space in that hall it caught her
A murder occurred in the land a slaughter
Farm hands sought her and she found
Her loud good-for-nothing wrought iron
Life it caught her- A Poem