Photo by Unsplash+
by Cole Beauchamp
Mum says I’ll never amount to much – too green, too gullible – but what does she know, glued to her doombox and endless droughts, famines, floods? I get chatting on the way to Smithfield Market and make a great trade – my fox for three beans – but on my return, Mum rains curses. That night, I wake up floating, floodwater pouring through my open window, the three beans left on the sill sprouting into sturdy vines. I climb leaves as thick as my arm and help Mum out the window. Looking down on the submerged buildings, the stranded neighbours, the overcrowded boats, she changes her tune, says “Let’s keep going, There’s fuck all for us down there.” We climb into starlight and shadow.
Cole Beauchamp is a queer writer based in London. She was in Wigleaf’s Top 50 in 2024 and makes a mean gooseberry and orange jam.
