Giddy Up, GG

I won the eBay auction! the text read. Come check out my new sexbot! LOL

My blood ran cold. I adore my kiwi friend, Fester, but his tastes can be questionable. At the moment, our social circle is calling him the Cougar King due to his propensity for scoring with older chicks. I joke along with the others, poking fun at him, but secretly I’m jealous. At least he’s getting laid!

I rang the doorbell and waited. I’ve been here many times, so I can visualise the process happening inside. First, he has to change from frumpy house clothes into something sporty, probably lycra. Then he has to mess his hair stylistically. On his way to the door, he strews a few empty condom packets and pairs of female panties around the apartment… just for atmosphere, of course. Then a quick mist of his face with a spray bottle, making it look as though the visitor has interrupted him mid coitus. He opens the door, panting. Continue reading “Giddy Up, GG”

The Beast of Jerryl Deen

It was an idyllic dream, at first. The perfect city, an ideal home. I thought the tales had been made up by the locals, to scare off any stranger who dared enter the city and intrude on their lifestyle. Aussies do it all the time. Dropbears keep the numbers of American tourists to a minimum. The outback locals cultivate their inbred, murderous reputation to scare away backpackers. So why couldn’t an entire city spread stories of a monster with cold, crazy eyes,  designed to protect their perfect peaceful existence from overpopulation?

But seriously… a creature so fearsome that Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees fled back to hell, embracing each other for warmth? Alien and Predator returned to their home planets to nurse their frostbitten wounds? Even Clive Barker’s cenobites avoid this pocket of humanity, deliberately ignoring all summons from any newly opened Lament Configurations in this city. The problem was, I never heard any stories about the hideous Beast of Jerryl Deen until after I’d already moved there – until it was too late. Continue reading “The Beast of Jerryl Deen”

Going Home

Darkness descends as I trudge towards the vast, open plain. I place one bare foot in front of the other, not caring if I cut myself on a jagged piece of flint. I look down, not because I need to watch where I’m stepping, but simply because I cannot lift my head.

The sun is shining in the clear, blue sky, so I could see quite clearly should I look up. But I know the plain is devoid of any vegetation. No animals scurry over the rocks, nor swoop through the still air. Nobody will be blocking my path, trying to talk me out of this course of action. Continue reading “Going Home”

Once Upon A World

Miondor. Two suns. Acidic oceans. True Night comes once a year.

Prince Eraus, second son of King Horaus and Queen Moran, was born of True Night. He’s shy, bookish, and adored by the people. Torn between his devotion to duty and his desire for obscurity, Eraus wants to live a quiet, uneventful life.

Two lands. No innovation. No progress. An uneasy peace.

Gertie Ferked is pragmatic and intelligent. A patient presidential candidate, she’s planning sweeping changes to make life bearable for the downtrodden masses. Her passion is equal rights for Vash Morah, a flame fanned even brighter by the murder of her daughter, Uma, who returns as one of the undead. Continue reading “Once Upon A World”


The Miondor series is an epic saga of seven fantasy books, featuring heroes and villains, living and dead people, love and conflict, kings and whores, powerful religions, prophecies, fantastical creatures, and a myriad of fascinating concepts.

Miondor is a flat world with two major landmasses, teetering in space between a red sun and a blue sun. The oceans are acidic, and at least one sun is always present in the sky. Darkness comes just once a year, a brief period known as True Night, the birth of the new year. Continue reading “Miondor”

Turn Right In Eighty Metres

Turn right in eighty metres.

The metallic female voice of the GPS startled me. I glanced across at the hitch-hiker in the passenger seat, snoring softly. I’d picked him up half an hour earlier, damp with drizzle at the Twelve Apostles. He’d conversed, politely and gratefully, for a full five minutes before falling asleep. I turned on the radio softly to cover his snores, and cracked the window to allow the stench of his day-old sweat to escape.

Turn right in eighty metres.

Again with the unnecessary, annoying instruction. I scanned the road ahead, but there were no turns coming up. There was nothing except Great Ocean Road for a long, long time, and the intermittent sweep of my windscreen wipers. I shook my head… the crazy bitch is on drugs. Continue reading “Turn Right In Eighty Metres”


The university dorm room had a clear line of demarcation down the centre.

On one side, Thom sprawled naked across his unkempt bed, snoring loudly and drooling into his filthy sheets. Dirty clothes, pizza boxes, sporting gear, and mystery liquids obscured the floor, presumably a beige carpet. Underwear was draped across Thom’s laptop screen, used only for porn and youtube football videos.

The other side of the dorm room was pristine. Anderson did not identify as having OCD, but he did have a stick to push back the tide of filth from Thom’s half of the room which threatened his space. Anderson was sitting on his bed, back to the wall, arms wrapped around his knees. His bed was crisply made, and he struggled not to let his rocking wrinkle the sheets.

The two students were best friends. Continue reading “Precog”

Urban Renewal

The city slumbered, restlessly. Her human inhabitants, once her lifeblood, had become a parasite, a virus, wreaking havoc as they rampage through their tiny lives. The leeches leave nothing but destruction in their wake.

The human cells treat each other as poorly as they treat their host; however, the city felt no comfort in this knowledge. Her ears rang with cries from victims of crime, both illegal and immoral; crimes committed by strangers and loved ones, the acts as cold and desperate as the perpetrators themselves. Continue reading “Urban Renewal”

The Shadows

In the eternal struggle between good and evil, each battle is a victory for the sinister ones. Wars between nations, conflicts between religions, even petty feuds among friends and neighbours, all shine a spotlight on evil and advance its cause: anarchy and destruction. No matter who the victor, these public battles – all fought in the light, all with the best of intentions – promote the goals of the dark forces.

Conversely, the biggest victories for good happen in the dark. They are not openly acknowledged, yet alone glorified. These tiny strikes against evil occur in the cracks of society, in the spaces where nobody looks. That tiny baby, whose death stunned an entire world, was destined to do much evil. Now, he can’t. Continue reading “The Shadows”


Pain and light pierce the fog of my mind. I slam my eyes shut, instantly regretting the impulse to open them in the first place, then sit up slowly, leaning back on one hand while resting my head in the other. My head throbs, my mouth and throat are lined with gravel, and an overwhelming fetid smell fills my nostrils. Whether this smell is real or psychosomatic, I have no idea.

I take a few deep breaths to fortify myself, then slowly crack my eyelids. They peel open from one side to the other, slowly and noisily, reminiscent of ripping a bandaid from a wound. After the stabbing pain from the flare of light subsides I slowly looked around, taking in my surroundings. Continue reading “Bindis”


Wormholes do exist. Tunnels through time and space, allowing you to travel faster than the speed of light. Can’t wait until your eighteenth birthday? Why not enter a wormhole and arrive there in a few short moments? The idea is far more appealing the more boring, mundane route of real time.

I was excited to see Christmas. My wife and I had plans to visit my family, several time zones distant. The mundane path looked boring, and also a little daunting. All that driving. So much preparation. The trip itself was shorter than the amount of time it took to plan! I was never very patient. Continue reading “Wormhole”


This 11th Day of August in the year of our Lord, 1897

To my Darling Husband,

I pray this letter finds you in good health. I, personally, am in fine physical health; however, I must confess I find myself doubting the sanity of my mind.

As you are already aware, for the last several months I have been engaged in the pursuit of a most insidious and evil entity: the Upir known as Dracula. Every day since I left your side, I have dreamed of returning to you. I hold intense romantic notions of returning shortly to your embrace, and pray this will come to fruition. Continue reading “Upir”