On Flint’s ninth birthday his father took him sailing on the Guadalupe River. It was late July, and the morning waves were filled with tiger-striped trout. The air smelled of wet, blooming flowers; the sun still rising behind cliffs thick with cacti, and when Flint stood on his toes he could see pelicans gliding like … Continue reading Blossom (Extract 2)

Flint worked until midday. He hacked and slashed, ripped and sawed, tore sockets from electric panels and blasted the walls with flame. Workmen came and went, but he did not speak with them. The kitchen of the old antebellum home became a lightning rod for his frustration and impotence; for his inability to stop the disease that had killed his mother from killing his wife...

Matingo had promised the trip of a lifetime. And, flying over the boughs of the Serengeti Jungle, Bertie Johnson could hardly argue. They’d been drinking, dancing, hunting, and fishing. They’d posed with lions and tigers, camped and slept in moon-drenched, jungle hideaways. What was owed, had been paid, and then some. But Bertie did not … Continue reading Matingo

As Veruca stood in the pouring rain outside Mr Gunn’s surgery, she wondered exactly how it had come to this. Ten years of gobstoppers, jellied-eels, and bubble-gum bears that sweated sugar. Cola for breakfast, lemonade for lunch. And not a single trip to the dentist...

Samuel left his plimsolls atop the sea wall, and climbed carefully down to the storm-strewn cove. The sun was a glowing ember in the east, the sky ribboned with purple-gold clouds. Far out, a boat was turning homeward, bright blue sails battered by the rising wind and the twisting crest of the sea. But Samuel … Continue reading Timbuctoo (ongoing)