atlas was here.
we’re flying through the town on a wire, feet dragging across the stone paths. you’re lying stomach down on a pond in autumn, green water soaking through your t-shirt, eyes wide open and lungs filling with something or other. it’s a midnight chorus, baby, can’t you hear the birds from down there? can’t you sing... Continue Reading →
I’m a tiny child in a tiny town.My soles flatten grass and strawSharp enough to leave lines on my skin.Wide eyes drink at the red on the floor;Red like soup, something I could drink in the winter.Soaking into the gaps of the tiles.Arms like birch trees hauling sticks to the fire,Peeling off my own skin... Continue Reading →
we start this story by ignoring the plum ripe bruises in the courtyard and carefully planting the missing teeth in the warm soil. the sun is shining, somewhere, but not on the wasted ghosts of this town. each one will kiss you as you pass them by. you never have to ask. other customs include... Continue Reading →
Grace was ill her whole life. She was a woman that was small, slight like a bird, who walked softly and made the whole room seem silver. She was never older than twenty-four. Alistair was a man already on his way to greatness, with red cheeks and dark stubble, and people flocked to him every... Continue Reading →
Unlike the many, many tales of this sort, this is not a ghost story. No. Reece was very much alive. But looking back on it now, the elements are much the same. Oscar Barnlow, unlike some other people I could mention, was not particularly a gothic hero. He wasn’t sent to the town of Hereden to... Continue Reading →
‘Oscar’s Diary’ is an introductory piece to my characters Oscar Barnlow and Tina Garraway, and was written for the podcast ‘The Table’. Listen to the podcast of this piece here. PART 1 Monday Dear diary, Since the train won’t be arriving for another fifteen minutes, I thought I’d let you know that I’m late to work.... Continue Reading →
He was exploring, once again, drifting like a lost ghost down the familiar corridor. At the end of the corridor, he knew that to his left there was the grand staircase, a hundred and eight steps that ascended to the crumbling classrooms of Fates House. But to the right lay the unexplored territory of the... Continue Reading →
(This was a piece originally published for the University of Melbourne's People of Colour magazine, Myriad 2018. Check it out here.) Ignorance is bliss - well yes, it was. You were someone who didn’t know about the ways of the world at all. You sat at home in your own little world and didn’t let... Continue Reading →
Altern House 