Known as ‘The Klinger’ by his colleagues, Detective Kennedy Klinger of the Queensland Police Service has a reputation for tenacity. Klinger solves cases from Brisbane’s dark side, where motives are murky and the crimes are disturbing.

When the body of a young woman is found – poorly staged to look like suicide – a pattern emerges which points to a sadistic serial killer. The Klinger must find the killer before they can kill again. As Detective Klinger investigates the case, a colleague’s son goes missing and a disturbing link is uncovered. The investigation becomes a desperate race against time and a mind driven insane with grief.

Can The Klinger solve the mystery? His steely focus is the missing youth’s best chance for survival.

Backcover blurb for ‘Tumble’, the first Klinger novel.


“Tell me a bedtime story, George.” Amy, seven years old, tucked herself into bed as she pleaded with her companion.

“It’s a little late, isn’t it?” George questioned, his voice stern.

“Pleeeease?” Amy smiled, exposing the gaps where her front teeth had fallen out.

“OK, fine.” George relented with a sigh. Amy squealed with delight and snuggled under her covers.

“Do you know your Earth history?” George asked.

“It’s the home of humanity.” Amy was keen to show off her knowledge.

“That’s right,” George continued, “and if Earth were still around, today would have been a solstice day. Do you know what a solstice is?” Continue reading “Amy”


The inhabitants of the planet Fele referred to themselves as ‘feisty’ and ‘passionate’; however, other member races of the United Planets called them bloodthirsty, belligerent, vain, and a little fragrant.
Through civil wars, blood feuds, and family disagreements, the planet Fele was an arid wasteland. Only after its inhabitants ran out of resources for their war machines did they finally band together to seek a solution.

Their answer? Invasion. A hostile takeover of another planet. Scientists were seconded from research into war machines and moved into the search for intelligent life outside the United Planets. The Fele could have moved on another planet within the UP, however no other known species had developed a brain which could host their intelligence. Continue reading “Fele”


Dayko, test pilot and youngest son of the Phan royal family, sat in quiet contemplation with his head resting on his knees. His perch at the peak of the palace afforded him views across the landscape in every direction. His  next test flight – possibly his last test flight – was due to take place shortly, and Dayko took a deep, trembling breath. He raised his horned head and looked outside, reminding himself of the stakes involved.

Lightning flashed constantly across the sky of dark turbulent clouds, reflected in Dayko’s sad, red eyes. He noted the acid rains had ceased, for now, replaced by falling ash. Neither rain nor ash doused the burning oceans, however. In a desperate twist of fate, those plains of burning pollution, along with the constant flashes of lightning, provided the only light in a world where all forms of energy and industry had failed. Continue reading “Dayko”

I Searched Everywhere

I searched everywhere for you,
and then I found you.
My heart cried out with joy.

I searched everywhere for you,
and then I loved you.
You were perfection itself.

I searched everywhere for you,
and then I hurt you.
I’m weak and easily led.

I searched everywhere for you,
and then I lost you.
I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.


From the moment they erupted into existence, Left and Right hated each other. The only thing they hated more than each other was their jail on the chest of their host. They despised being forced to co-exist.

Left was slightly larger, Right slightly perkier. Left hogged the bra, Right hogged the attention. Left was flawless, Right had a birthmark. Their hatred for each other, however, was perfectly symmetrical.

They performed their duties, of course, reliably and without complaint. There’s nobody to lodge a complaint with, after all. No Boob Arbitration Panel; no Nork Defense Group. Nobody ever campaigned for equal rights for tits. So Left and Right were stoic and accepted their fate. They let themselves be manhandled by the host’s dates. They supported pearl necklaces. They peaked over the top of tight dresses. They even caught food on occasion. The only function they recoiled at was feeding the host’s spawn. Continue reading “Not-So-Funbags”

Who Let The Djinn Out?

Let’s do it… let’s shove that genie back into the bottle

But can we? These days, nothing can be completely undone. No action goes unrecorded. No data is irrecoverably deleted. Every movement leaves a trace. Smoke and mirrors cast shadows.

This particular genie had paid out generously, when first released from his ornate little prison. Booming populations were fed, nomadic societies settled in their own area, industries flourished, and class structures were formed. AGRICULTURE was a boon with a barb in his tail, however. As the population expanded, he just couldn’t keep up. Continue reading “Who Let The Djinn Out?”

Tunnel City

I sat with my back to the girl in labour. Of course, at my age, anyone younger than twenty harvests is considered to be a girl. I could hear her screams, her panting. I could hear the midwife reassuring her, telling her to push. I could hear the girl cursing and swearing, threatening to bring down the wrath of Light onto the absent father of the child she was pushing into existence. The pain of labour always brings out the best humour – and language – in a woman.

In Tunnel City, the greatest respect you could show any other person was to turn your back on them, giving them some privacy. Aside from the midwife and myself, the labouring girl had an entire platform to herself. Anyone with an urgent need to pass, did so with their eyes carefully averted. The hope we all felt for this mother was reflected in the eyes of anyone who happened to meet my gaze as they scurried past. Continue reading “Tunnel City”


You hold my heart in your hands
You didn’t choose to, I gave it to you

My heart is yours, for you to do as you will

You hold my heart in your hands
Don’t squeeze it, and please don’t tease it

My heart is yours, for the tears you’ve spilled

You hold my heart in your hands
Your anger so hot, your voice so shrill

My heart is yours, for the trust I’ve killed

You hold my heart in your hands
Spotted with age, fingers gnarled with pain

Through all this, you still hold my heart in your hands

Microfiction for Scifantor, June 2016
Theme: Heart

Get Out!

Get out!

The sticky message oozed down my freshly painted kitchen wall, blood contrasting nicely with the daffodil yellow I’d chosen at Bunnings. I placed the paint roller into the tray and stepped back, frustrated and shocked. The reason for my frustration? The wall was still wet. The reason for my shock? This entity can spell. More words appeared as I stared, a suitable look of horror planted firmly on my features.

The house is mime. Continue reading “Get Out!”

Sudden-Onset Boganism

We’d saved  for millennia for this meal. It took five centuries just to save the reservation fee. Now, finally, we had a table for two at the Restaurant of the Universal Mindscape, the product of the combined spare processing power of every human mind in the galaxy, all jacked into one stunning simulation.

Our table, labelled The Winners, had an uninterrupted view of the Aurora of the Feeble Minds beneath our feet. It was spectacular. The glow of the aurora lit us from below, and we could almost feel the warmth of the dying neurons. Continue reading “Sudden-Onset Boganism”

Words That Hurt

Words can hurt

Over the last few years, the LGBT community have voiced concerns over the misappropriation of the word ‘gay’ by modern tweens. Originally, ‘gay’ meant happy and carefree. Then, homosexual men took the word as their own and gave it an entirely different meaning. Now, tweens are using the word in a negative sense.

But don’t despair, my LGBT brethren… tweens will drop usage of the word in a pejorative sense as education and awareness improves, just as usage of the word ‘retard’ has fallen out of favour. Or alternatively, the word ‘gay’ will end up with yet another completely different meaning to its original purpose. It’s a little confusing at times, however. If you call a man ‘gay’, is he happy, homosexual, or bad in some ill-defined way? It all really depends on how old you are. Continue reading “Words That Hurt”