H.G. Nolan

H.G. Nolan writes fiction that leans into the strange, the emotional, and the moments that are a bit of both. Her work has appeared in literary journals and in The Stoney Collection, an anthology of fiction and poetry. Her stories explore connection, discomfort, quiet transformation, and the things we leave unsaid.

The pieces below represent some of that work—stories that found a home and readers along the way.

H.G. Nolan's Published Work
“I’m not fearless—not in life, and not in writing. But when I write, my curiosity is just louder."
H.G. Nolan

When We Were Girls

Published in The Stoney Collection Vol. II

It was just by chance that I  noticed the boy putting up the poster. I had glanced up from my book and over at my brother. His head was down, hair falling forward over his brows. He had the tip of his pen to his lips and I could tell he was reading to himself from the open notebook as he mouthed the words ever so slightly. That’s when the door opened. I looked towards it and the boy came in, nodding at the barista as he pulled the rolled-up poster from the limp pile draped over  his shoulder. Delicately, but deliberately, he pulled the backing off with his teeth and, with his free hand, pressed the sticky side against the wall. That was it. And just as fast, he was gone, back outside to the overcrowded footpaths drenched in a heavy heat.

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Let Them Blame The Fox

Published in Scrimshaw Journal Vol. 4

We are at the edge of the woods. My brother is pacing the lip of the embankment where the gravelled fire road meets the forest floor. We wait, listening. It was unlike her to stray far—at least, not when she was with him.

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Levi and The Wind

Published in The Stoney Collection Vol. I

I was praying for you to fall asleep. And now, seeing your stillness for days, I’m afraid I prayed too hard.

“Levi, how are you feeling?” I sit by your side on the bed, rubbing your back gently in an attempt to rouse you. But you’re so deep, lost, still thinking it’s night. And even if you woke, you might not know it’s day yet. The sun, like you, is refusing to peek over the horizon.

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Let Me Stay

Published in Swerve 3

Your sisters are breathing out of sync—one taking a breath in as the other breathes out. The bed you share always feels smaller on summer nights, the warmth from your bodies crowding the spaces between you. You aren’t touching, but the sticky heat makes it feel like you are. The covers, two sleeping bags zipped together, have been kicked onto the floor. You have been staring at the ceiling since your parents left, but you can’t fall asleep. The room is stifling, so you slide out of the bed and out of the room. The house feels empty even though you know you are not alone.

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