constantly screams into the void. the void screams back, louder.
The first of the buildings fell today. The salt had eaten away at the foundations, the water churned and crashed into the walls, until it buckled under the weight of sixteen storeys of…
The fireworks have stopped for now but their ghosts remain; massive smoke-spiders hanging in the night, the size of buildings, long coiling contrail legs, a procession marching languorously past blinking window-lights and…
Third place in the Rachel Funari Prize for Fiction 2015.
oracle, storyteller, narrator
She goes about her writing with a snarling ferocity, all hard hooks and uppercuts, bleeding over the keys…
Published in Peril Magazine #17.
[Read at Peril]
Published on Peril Magazine #16.
