Still Here: Memoirs of Feminine Friendship
Six memoir vignettes, self published, available for purchase below.
“It’s midnight. I’m standing in the paddock out front of the farm. The landscape unfolds in muted pastel echoes of its daytime splendour, with highlights picked out in bright filigreed moonlight. The balance between light and shadow is impossibly subtle, so delicate that you could never paint it. My bare feet are submerged in a shallow flowing stream of shining rain water. It’s never been there before, and it may never return. This is the moment where the heavy clouds, having poured their wet hearts out into the valley all day, finally break open with an exhausted sigh and let the full moon through to strike the flooded green world with silver.”
Excerpt from Hazel in the Aftermath of a Storm
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Old Man’s Head
Short Story, published by Curioser Magazine April 2021
“It’s a pleasant walk to the lookout, usually, and a short one. Not a hike, the path is well maintained and mostly flat until the last hundred meters or so where there’s a steep set of earthy stairs bordered in wood. I try to keep my footfalls as silent as possible as we begin to climb the last leg of the path. I wish to leave no trace, even in momentary sound. I don’t want us to be here, like this, with iron and steel.”
Available in Issue 1 of Curiouser Magazine
Flash Fiction, free to read online.
“The whistle of high-pressured vapour escaping from the puncture is shrill, piercing. It cuts through the quiet afternoon like a child’s scream. My pulse spikes, adrenaline floods my system.
My heavy leather gloves seem to fight me, stiff with cold and greasy with lubricant. I work to pull them on as I nimbly hop between the tools and semi-dismantled engine parts which lie scattered across the leafy forest floor. The small entry wound in my ship’s hull is just above head height. I hastily gag its squeal with a gloved thumb.”
A Small Mercy
Science Fiction Short Story – subscribe to read
“The sirens were screaming like a choir of banshees, drilling their urgent message into every available ear. Governor Bright Armitage took several deep breaths before carefully typing in her access code. She shut down each siren individually, gently re-immersing the prison in an uneasy silence. She turned from her desktop console to face the uniformed man who waited tensely behind her.”