Midnight Rambler

  She had not realise she had moved. Touch, not movement nor sound alerting her to it; fourteen inches of bread knife magically filled her hand, taking control of its own movement alone, leaving Gentle Annis somewhat out of the picture as it did so. She watched the elderly lady lean further forward deliciously exposing…

I, the drowned.

  After a long night of patients displaying all the hallmarks of influenza; I helped a lad of no more than eight who had a load of gravel accidentally dumped upon him, very nearly killing him. His ribs were nearly all broken, and had developed an intracranial bleed which I drilled and drained on the…

Purgatory and other delights

  In the midnight dark it swept through streets in a manner specific to the wraith that it was. Through the rain, street lights flickered then went out as it passed, thunder rolled overhead, lightning lit up all that the electric lamps no longer could.    She had her head down against the rain, it blew…

A most delicious fillet of soul

  Mr. Darcy had enjoyed the wait.  The world going about its business was always an interest to him. He enjoyed the occasional pat from passers-by, plus the odd tit bit that was infrequently offered up to “such a good dog”.   His dietary intake of souls was well looked after.  Many a lone, and…

Your death, my happiness.

  Sweat ran into her eyes as she fled on winged feet.  She had no weapon, and the open area beside the rutted and dusty track offered no cover whatsoever from either the elements or more human pursuers.  Her cloak streaming behind her, flapping occasionally around her legs slowing her, and her laced above the…

Death is a heartbeat away

  I have posted this here before; I think?   1932, on a road passing Datjoin, heading toward what was soon to be known as ‘Wialki’, a place deep within the eastern section of the Western Australian Wheatbelt. A young woman held rein whilst perched high upon the seat of a cart, a cart that…

Deader than Good Friday

  The evening summer sunlight ran like gold through the trees and the bush behind St. Gertrude’s College. Shadow crept down the hill before it, and the mercury dropped to 37℃. Sweat, half an hour prior, had ceased dripping from the brim of the broad brown Akubra perched on my dusty head, and the route…

When the dead do more than talk.

  Christmas day, ten or so years ago.   The farm they lived on is about 25 km’s out of town as the crow flies.   Well above the 110 km/hr speed limit, the ten year old Ford Falcon was being edged along as fast as possible, but as safely as he physically could. An…

A truly horrible day

  This is a dreadful story, and 100% fact; I was there. My skin crawls at the thought of it, as my children, and those of our friends, are all around the age of those involved below.  I felt genuinely sick just thinking about it; writing it his taxed me, and broken my heart more…

Gutted like the trout she was.

  The evening summer sunlight ran like gold through the tree’s and the bush behind St. Gertrude’s College. Shadow crept down the hill before it, and the mercury dropped to 37℃. Sweat, half an hour prior, had ceased dripping from the brim of the broad brown Akubra perched on my dusty head, and the route…

A heart broken by death

Agnes had been strolling door to residential door, handing out cheaply produced leaflets to everyone she encountered willing enough, polite enough, to lighten her load.  Few were interested in the spiel that went with it, but at least they had something to enlighten them as to the injustice of society and a government precluding women…

Your life on my knife

  “Life Sucks”, it was the publisher that came up with the book title, not me. The title I really wanted to give it was “Should I Fall from Grace with God”, but no, “Life Sucks” it is.   Why the change? Apparently being a shorter title it is easier to remember, appealing to a…

Savage fist of love

  A Moora reality.   Right, I live in Australia, so I am Australian? Which means I live in Australasia, so I’m Australiasian, AND Oceania (thanks to the tectonic plate) meaning I am Oceanian? However, Australia left the Oceania Football League in 2005, and joined the Asian Football league, therefore I am Asian? Although, due…

My corpse at my feet

  My corpse is at my feet, and what I see on the ground before me appears to be that of a 22 year old woman; a woman 5 feet 2 inches in the old money, and is lying like Jesus on the cross, flat on its back and arms outstretched across the most magnificent…

Death tamed love.

  Windows, eyes to the soul of the house; this manor, abode, home, reflected the lights of the late model Citroen rambling up the gravel drive. One then two people alight from the magnificent juggernaut into a night brimming with moonlight. God’s breath teased the tree’s, bestowing upon the pair the heady scent of jasmine…

Strike Hardest

  Cold sweat and steady rain dripped from every part of her being; terror gnawed at her gut, and her nausea was overpowering. Lithe legged she ran, not ‘to’, but rather it was the ‘from’ that had her sprinting in sans bra and undies in a pair of old jeans, an older tee shirt and…

A reason to burn

  My name is irrelevant.   I am 45 years ancient.   War broke me fifteen years ago, and now I am incapable of working.   ♠   The aboriginals at the end of my street are fighting again. At least twenty, on reflection there are more likely twenty five, men and women yelling and…

Skeleton tree, the original Mercy Seat.

  It still amazes me that the sheer horror of Jesus and the resurrection is seemingly overlooked. Yes, it is celebrated, but the absolute blood laden carnage of the event still blows me away, is seemingly forgotten. Essentially, Jesus was a Jewish religious and political dissident, betrayed by a suicidal friend, cast out by his…

Mercy on me

  Lying behind these lack lustre, whimsical if it so pleases you, eyes of mine; the portal to this my very soul; a hellish black beast stirs.   It is the beast of time. More accurately, the beast of time squandered. A beast for the soul left to rot in the remnants of self. My…

Music is the sound of the emotion that is her.

  Walls the colour of melted vanilla ice cream stretch three and a half metres upward around me; four sides four metres by five metres apart and long. The 1950’s ceiling is the white of a young brides wedding dress, cobwebs are a smattering in the North West corner; thankfully well passed their used by date. Once loved,…