Update – Stone Circle

Originally posted on Kate Murdoch:
I’ve been quietly editing, on and off, for the past couple of months and have just signed off on the manuscript. For a couple of weeks it was solid, this last week just small changes. There are now aspects of the English language I’m on close terms with, tiny grammatical…

Our Furry Friends #8

Originally posted on Cake & Quill:
Last author in our series to reminisce about past pets is Kate Murdoch. She’s here today to tell us how to secretly keep animals when your parents are dead set against it. Kate exhibited widely as a painter before turning her hand to writing. Her focus on historical fiction, she also enjoys…

The Bridge

I had one clear memory of my brother, Seamus. He was hunched over the kitchen table, drawing in a visual diary with a fineliner. Tawny tendrils of hair hung over his face, his lips clamped in concentration. One morning he went for a walk and never came back. My parents glued missing posters on trees … More The Bridge

A Willing Victim

Three months living out of a 1979 Datsun almost killed Ruby. Of course, there was the consolation of iridescent sunsets at Ricketts Point, the absence of house cleaning and the company of her grey Persian, Nala. Her bones ached in the frigid night air, even though the cat burrowed close. In those early hours, the … More A Willing Victim

Out now: Paws and Claws

Originally posted on Cake & Quill:
It’s the first of April, and unlike the rest of the world we’re absolutely serious. So, no, it’s not a joke – our latest anthology, Paws and Claws, is out and available. Filled with all sorts of creatures, furry, fluffy, slimy, scaled, winged, weird, it tells you stories to…


Greta was the first middle-aged woman to find herself in a live pod, within viewing distance of the moon. It was peaceful in her two rooms, the curved thermal glass a barrier to infinity, to obliteration. She watched stars die at close range, the slow flowering of cobalt gases, glowing red eye at their centre. … More Interstellar


I drive past his office. I don’t stop, but imagine him at his desk, the phone cradled between ear and shoulder. I pull over, fight the urge to go inside. Last time he pinned me to the carpet under the desk and my heart was one continuous beat, my legs wrapped around his waist. His … More Remembrance

Strumpen Haus

  Bart Strumpen glowed with pride the day he was voted chair of the PTA. He crowed to his wife, Tania, about the bottom feeders he’d defeated. ‘Corrupt! Every single one of them. They should be locked up. Not a true American amongst them, yet they think they can run a school. Sad!’ Tania nodded … More Strumpen Haus


The microphone crackled and whined as Taylor sang the last verse of ‘Haven’t Met You Yet.’ He inhaled the waft of stale beer and attempted to make eye contact with the oblivious audience. Smoke hung in a stagnant strip beneath fluorescent lights. The stressed pings and melodies of pokie machines came from the next room. … More Infamy