She stares at the hideous apparition in the mirror as though frozen by its reflection. Her skin is cracked and split, glaringly white even in the shadows. Her lips are the pallor of someone long dead. In place of her lovely chestnut curls are deadly snakes which twist and writhe from her scalp, their scaly ...
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Fiction
Fiction: ‘The Renaissance’
The river flows steadily, its rich brown current sweeping away the cigarette butts and empty beer cans. He stands on the ledge beneath the bridge. The wall before him is a dark grey canvas dappled with moss and faded tags. He lifts a paint-stained hand, rattles the can, and brings it to the wall. A ...
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Fiction: ‘The Vanishing Act’
There were seven people ahead of me; I know that because I made a point to count them. They stood along the uneven ground, their faces glowing under the neon lights as they waited with the same sort of unspoken impatience. The booth sat apart from the other tents and stalls. Like everything else, it ...
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Fiction: ‘The Gargoyle’
For years he had perched in the same old position, on the same old spot where the sculptor had carved him. The rain had washed away the finer details of his grotesque form and the sun had bleached the stone into a ghostly white. Hideous bat wings sprung from his hunched back, while a set ...
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Fiction: ‘The Sparrow and the Sun’
There once lived a sparrow who loved the sun with all its heart. All throughout the spring and well into summer, he would perch on the highest branch of the tallest tree and sing to his golden beloved. He sang so sweetly and earnestly that all the people of the town would gather around his ...
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Fiction: ‘Existence is Futile’
Ageing is inescapable. It’s an inevitable part of being alive, and as certain as death. But then again, maybe not. Over a century ago, our leading neuroscientists made a discovery that changed the course of human evolution. They found out that ageing isn’t just a biological process in which our bodies experience a gradual decline ...
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Fiction: ‘Hunger’
It looked just like any other well in any other city; deep and dark with smooth sides worn away by the years and an echo as sweet as a bell. The water had dried out long before the eldest living generation had been born. But that never took away from the true value of the ...
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Fiction: ‘Lyrebird’
She pokes her head out of the nest and looks up at the sky. It’s so blue that it looks violet against the sun. Light spills off the gum leaves that ripple in the breeze high above, while down below the ground is a crosshatch of stringy bark. She withdraws back inside the safety of ...
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Fiction: ‘Sprites’
She sits above the surface of the water, looking out at the golden sea. Her toes skim the waves as she swings gently backwards and forwards. Backwards and forwards. She holds onto the rusted chains on either side of her with a loose, resigned sort of grip. Her favourite dress is stained with salt. But ...
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Fiction: ‘Of Fire and Blood’
Always I can see them on the horizon. First they rise high above the skyscrapers, and then they dive down like frenzied birds feeding on a school of fish. The power of their bodies is immense. I thought they wouldn’t look quite so indestructible from above. I was wrong. As our jets raced overhead, I ...
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