Mohawk took one last drag of his cigarette, sighed, then flicked the butt down into the lifeless wasteland below. The dying embers tumbled into the void, and he watched as they bounced off something that might've been a car one day, then disappeared forever. The frigid remains of the city spread out in every direction, … Continue reading Songs of Life
Most people have a drawer full of old photos that help them remember the past. I'm not too different from most people, except my drawer is full of photos that let me see the future. I found them a few years ago while I was tidying up the spare room so that my wife, Connie, … Continue reading Pictures: A Love Story
My uncle used to have this old, black and white photo that took pride of place above his dinner table. No matter how many times he moved, that photo was always the first thing anyone would see when they walked into his house. There he was, 22 years old, being chaired around a boxing ring … Continue reading One Last Shot
LiVE A mosquito the size of a bat roared out of the jungle, aimed towards what was left of the wharf, and slammed its syringe-line probiscus into the nearest patch of succulent human flesh. The man with the shoulder-length hair swatted at it, smearing blood across his leathery, heavily-tattooed neck. He barely noticed the bugs … Continue reading Everytime I See Your Face
Down by the greasy waters of Scotland's industrial east coast, in the shadows of a rotting shipyard, two small boys were throwing rocks at the remains of a dead cat. They were an awkward pair; one short, skinny and dark, the other tall, fat and as pale as the skin on a glass of curdled … Continue reading Kings of Fife
The Swell Season Banksia bushes sprawled down the side of the house and raced into the dense Australian scrub at the end of the yard. Their flaming flowers were heavy in the dying sunlight, and seemed to dance as the fat bees clambered around them. Sarah focused on the banksias blinking through the computer screen, … Continue reading Alone Apart
The Living End The 5:45 from Central squealed to a stop just as Dustin Johnson figured out the answer to 17 down in his crossword. For half an excruciating minute there was nothing but the shriek of brakes and the moaning of a horn and the shudder of the carriage refusing to do as it … Continue reading Hold Up
Rowan C. Stewart 