Well, I meant to post this on Halloween, but I forgot (as in, I was too busy covering the flat in velvet and candles ahead of our Halloween party). But anyway, here’s a Victorian-gothic short story of mine that was selected for publication in the “Show Us Your Shorts” story anthology
A little teaser for next week’s production of I Am a Camera in Cambodia, adapted & directed by yours truly. For this version, we moved the action from 1930s Berlin (amid the rise of the Nazis and antisemitic violence) to Phnom Penh in 1969 (amid the build up to Lon
Runner-up, The Writer’s Digest poetry competition 2018 PEAKS That was the night we drove to the highlands And the fierce white peaks were arrows pointed at the stars. I remember the moon, the colour and texture of snow Crumbling from the mountain Tumbling into the dark. You
Half-night dusk-light Dims the lingering lilac-white Rough-cut cloud, not cotton soft, But dead and dull, dry tufts of hair A thin-drawn rip in jet-torn sky Glows deep and fine As a lamp-lit scratch in a table-top Then sinks its smoke to smoothness – Stops.
At first I was afraid, I was petrified I hit you with my shoe- how are you still alive? But now it’s so much worse You could be lurking in my purse You little creep – now I can’t sleep! — Under the bed? Inside the drawer? Or have you
The air is heavy with smoke. All I can see is a carpet of red shells, strewn across the ground like rose petals, and the sparks of fire that rip through the endless cloud. The angry splutter of explosions intensifies – the procession must be approaching. I see the Gods
Whether you define yourself as digital nomad, a long-term backpacker or simply a very frequent flier, there are some hassles that come up again and again… and are guaranteed to drive you nuts. If you’re as scatty as I am, they might well have cost you a ton of time