I’ve been writing for a while. In fact, I remember writing my first book of short stories before I could do joined up writing, and illustrating it as well. And I distinctly remember there being ghosts and various supernatural beings in there, although the book itself is long gone. I certainly cultivated a dark streak for a fair old while, and even in later years my older stories owe a lot more to the horror genre than the fantasy one. There’s a sampling of those stories below – not from the book I wrote when I was a kid, though. My penmanship and drawing may not have improved since then, but I’d like to think my writing has.
If you’re looking for a lighter read, however, head over to the Tall Tales page for some contemporary fantasy, or check out Big Bad Novel Stories for a taste of the world my work in progress takes place in (hint – cats, magical beings and not a little humour).
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Now read on from the menu or through the links below!
I can feel it, somewhere just beyond the reach of our outstretched fingers, walking the other side of an invisible wall, pushing its horned head against it, bending it like the soft skin of a womb. It’ll be through, in time.
It was dark when I opened my eyes again. Deep bush dark, all whispering trees and the rustling of small creatures making their own way through the night. My chin was pressed into rich, forgiving earth, and I knew if I turned I would see, through the trees and the punga, the stars embroidered over me.
Insomnia is a tidal wave that swallows all else. The pills only people the darkness with half-formed hallucinations and confusion, while the bedside clock sounds like a deathwatch beetle as it ticks through the midnight hours.
He seized a leg of the table where it reared out of the treacherous ground, and dragged himself to it, whimpering. He wrapped his arms around it as the earth undulated beneath him, and closed his eyes, closed out the dark.