SHORTS

Winner of Port Writer’s Literary Competition 2018 Mum sits on the hard verandah floor with her rounded back to me, […]

I’d seen him the previous day,  in a photo online—a nameless, spotty, and speckled cocker-spaniel cross with gangly legs, oversized

The kitchen shears were delivered on a silver plate with the gin three minutes after he delivered his gift, seven

Writing is rewriting. After a short affair with a critique group, I made the tough decision to take another look

There are two kinds of brain freeze. There’s the one you get from gulping down ice-cream. Painful. There’s another other

If you’ve been to my place, you may have seen my walk-in wardrobe—though I usually rush to close it, if