Can I belong to two places at once? Can I have two families? Or is it my lot to be traitor, one way or another—to be cast from the bridge, the weights of punishment dragging me into the depths of mutinous choice.
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"I can only tell you things that happened as I saw them, and what the rest was about only Africa knows." – Oom Schalk Lourens
Ditching our snacks and stories we scramble around in search of would-be weapons. Shoes! Yes! These blood sucking baddies don’t know who they’re messing with.
The pigs were lying dead in the road…
The world was a strange place. Bad strange? He wasn’t sure. Often, he’d walk and walk; hunting for signs of the fight—remnants of the strangeness.
She ran. The screaming sirens terrorising her legs into motion. Every step a trauma. They all ran. Boys, girls. Lessons abandoned. Books, bags and reason thrown into chaos.
The faux warmth of the heater gently nudges its way through my 4-degree car. Stifling a shiver, I will the beady red eye in front of me to change to a more amenable green…
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Have you ever seen a flying car? I have. Well, almost. I didn’t actually see it fly but I know it did. How? My uncle.
I’d sit on the sand. Red and hot. So hot. And scrape my nails along the ground. Digging into the flat, dry earth. Witling time away…
The gardener lifts the fork and turns the snake, like a piece of meat cooked over an open fire, and inspects the specimen.
She was lying in bed. There was a drip in her arm. She seemed to be of average height—a shapeless mass under white sheets…