New Irish Writing: On the Stairs by Dominic Stevens

New Irish Writing’s winning story for September 2024 Dominic Stevens, whose short story was the winning selection for New Irish Writing in September 2024 Illustration for New Irish Writing by Eleno Leouchev Dominic Stevens, whose short story was the winning selection for New Irish Writing in September 2024 Illustration for New Irish Writing by Eleno Leouchev Dominic Stevens Daphne shivers as she breathes out slowly, quietly closing the door on his seething anger. She breathes in the air of the stairway, which is lighter than that of the apartment, away from the definition of rooms, the definition of wife. The stairway in a Berlin tenement house, four floors, eight doors. Paint up to the height of the solid timber balustrade, glossy so it can be washed down each week, but this one isn’t, it’s slightly grimy, not quite respectable. Inside the apartments, the identities of people are somehow definable. Father, mother, wife, daughter. In the staircase these identities can be questioned, if questions exist. Don’t they always? Her finger making marks on the dusty window sill of the landing, eyes gazing down to the courtyard two floors below. Standing quietly, thinking back, thinking of home, of Eberswalde, of how this all started. The city fathers hadn’t wanted it in their town, that’s why the train station in Eberswalde sat at a slight remove. It was completed in 1884, when her father was a child. A solid stone building that faced back to the town and served to hide the flighty, almost indecent, cast iron and glass-covered platform that reached out towards Berlin. She had always liked the air in there, this ornate entrance hall that belonged to neither inside nor outside. It was quiet for periods of time, and then, as a train arrived or departed it became busy, as if the town was breathing in and out. She remembers a sense of expectation as she sat that morning waiting for the train, thinking about the forthcoming day. A day to be spent elsewhere, away from the place that she was a daughter. She looked at the clock. Berlin, […]

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