You don’t belong here anymore

He stood in the doorway, looking back at the mess he’d created. Papers scattered about the floor, electronics smashed, furnishings torn and the smell of gasoline filling his senses.

This used to be his home from home. His safe-haven, but now? Now it was all just noise. A collection of stuff that haunted his dreams and gnawed at his waking hours. He picked up the can that leant against the torn burgundy sofa cushions.

Mementos of this life crunched and cracked under foot as he walked, once more, through the rooms; stinging reminders of days past that punched his stomach and whispered vile thoughts.

The trail of petroleum followed him, always one step behind.

He walked through the open front door, eking the last few drops, before tossing the redundant canister. He reached into his top pocket, removed a silver lighter and stood facing the bullied building.

Silently, it begged for mercy.

He turned and began to walk away. This was his Hollywood moment.

His thumb pressed down against the thumbwheel. The flame sparked into life.

“Paul. Paul?” a voice he knew, shook his soul.

“Paul, are you gonna be long, mate?” He looked down at the sheets of paper in his hand. The ‘bin full’ light of the shredder blinking furiously, and Jeremy from accounts huffed, impatiently.



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E-Book Launch


Great stuff, I look forward to thumbing through!

Originally posted on The Writers' Life:

Mirrors The Cover

The Cover

The long awaited collection, Mirrors, will be published tomorrow night!

The authors have put up their feet now, and so can you while you enjoy the read. Here’s a taste of what you’ll find inside the cover.

Mirrors is an anthology of short stories, creative non-fiction and poetry from nine Australian writers. Set in cities, suburbia, and the Far North these authors explore the desires, the humours and the sorrows of life.

Each story is the shard of a mirror that reflects the lives of the ordinary people in extraordinary ways. A man exposes his desire for celebrity and greatness. A girl discovers a dragon in her backyard. A one-way mirror reveals a horror no mother should ever witness. Borrasca is an exotic and flamboyant woman but her true identity is shrouded in dark secrecy. The unlikely friendship between a Chinese gardener and a young girl…

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Every third Thursday, the town of Bullscock began its two week long festivities. A celebration of all things Spanish in honour of the town’s founder, Norman Crackers.

History tells us that Norman once visited Spain for a 2 week getaway and really enjoyed it. He drank Sangria, danced the flamenco, and ate paella. The paella had given him a dodgy tummy, but he insisted that he’d give it another go.

On his return, Norman had brought with him a pot of bull testicles. An odd parting gift, but one that was to shape the economical growth of the town forever.



Submitted for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. See if you can write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words.

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This summed up the feelings I’ve been hiding in my shoe for the last few months.


Originally posted on Being the Memoirs of Helena Hann-Basquiat, Dilettante.:

Well, it’s Wednesday again, and that means it’s time for people to die. Er, what I mean to say is that it’s time for husbands to choke wives and wives to poison husbands, and…
Oops. What I really meant to say is that it’s time for Friday Fictioneers — an exercise moderated by the lovely and brilliant Rochelle Wisoff-Fields . Each week, 100 or more writers take a look at a photo and write a story of about a 100 words inspired by the photo. It’s become kind of a joke that it’s not Friday Fictioneers until there’s a body count.

Can I challenge you this week to not kill anyone — or if you have to, at least do it creatively? I do try to read most if not all of the stories, and to be honest, I’m emotionally distressed and misanthropic enough as it is without having to…

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