Trees brushed against sky. "It's like a movie," she said. "How is that?" I asked.

“Movement.  T-men, squirters, could be locals.  Get Terp to ping ‘em.” “They’re coming around.”   Creeping a few inches, looking through the infra-red scope.  Two thermals moving behind the low cement wall heading for the well.   The first-time-out POG kneels, blasting at the wall end.    Buckets fly.    Diving out, covering the distance in seconds.    Two small, mangled bodies in scarves lay still.   “How the fuck could we tell.” shouts POG hysterically.   Reaching down slow

The westerly wind winds down the valley so heavily that people become winded. It is hard to tell if it is a planetary or a primary wind, like a trade or westerly or even polar easterly. Maybe a periodic or secondary wind like a monsoon, a land or sea breeze. It could even be a mountain or valley breeze. Local winds can include a Chinook, Bora or Mistral. But, it seems, after I played my woodwind I ate a cabbage, bean and curried egg meal and it has given me tremendous gaseous

Lined up in our chairs, waiting to be butchered...I feel like I should know what it’s like to cut through someone’s skin with a scalpel....

The children sat quietly, cross legged on the floor. They were small humans, not above 6years of age. Far from fully formed, but getting...

‘Rare or medium rare?’ ‘Well done, please.’ ‘You’ll have to get that from a different barbecue, mate. This isn’t a crematorium.’ ‘Don’t be so mean, Dan. If Scot wants it well done, he’s getting it well done.’ ‘I’m joking. Anyway, the man’s got a gift for incineration.’ Scot laughs and shrugs, visibly annoyed. His plan of feeding Dan shoe-leather next time they reciprocated the invite scrolls like ticker-tape behind his eyes. ‘He was a dragon in a previous life,’ intones Scot’

Slowly. Very, very slowly.  Muscles imperceptibly moving. Eyes still, forward, focussed, rivetted, locked on. Mottled light on mottled fur.  Head still, level, unflinching. Muscles glide forward.  Mouth twitches, chattering silently. Eyes stay locked.  Leaves and branches silently push apart. Mottled shadow glides slowwwwwwly forward, soundless.  Holding, still, moving, holding.  Gliding. Holding. Waiting. Millimetre moving, gliding, holding. Eyes unblinking. Prey stops, blin

Ms Johns stood in front of her senior school English class. They were good kids in general. Keen and enthusiastic.   ‘Predator from the...

"Miss, what's history?" "Cataclysm forming now. Tea once hot, sits warm."   We dreamed to be them. When scraping marrow from bones, and...

She looked out the window and cried. She was in despair. Her life had fallen apart. He was gone. Gone, but not only out of the house, but...

“Hiya, I’m Miles.  6’2”, beer-bellied, broad with full Ned-Kelly beard.  I have a Sinead hairstyle (vale Sinead), lots of wigs but love my Dolly and Cher the best.  Dusky Rose and Magenta are my fav nail colours, always one Crypt Black.  Lotsa frocks, stylish suits, evening wear of course, red pumps and my C-F-M-Boots, fishys, sheers, with nice tasteful jewellery, accoutrements and rings.  But sometimes, just trackies, plaids and Uggs.  Don’t like much fluff and flounces.  I’

Muffling dawn stirs, settles a cold mist and bows the soft brome.  The village bodach wheezingly, struggles onto one elbow, shakingly dropping back to his fliuch pillowcase and damp sheets.    Breathing is now like sucking mead through rough linen damask.  Eyes demented red and bulging.  Hands shaking ‘ta crith air’ as his heart beats the rattle of a demonic bodhran.   His bleary eyes search and cry out for his sweet Roisen but she left with Manannan mac Lir a long time afore

They stepped forward one and all to help where they could. The others couldn’t be there. They had a different purpose.   The monster that...

Cockatoo listens. Yaris serpentine belt shrieks. Plaintive song to one.