New drabble! 'Balloons' in Martian Magazine

Out now! Read my story 'Balloons' in Issue 7 of Martian Magazine!

Martian is a magazine of science fiction drabbles, stories told in exactly 100 words. Each quarter, we'll bring you twenty-six new, evocative science fiction micros from new and award-winning authors. Our seventh issue features stories from Rich Larson, Michelle Ann King, Liam Hogan, Marisca Pichette, Christopher Rowe, Adriana C. Grigore, James Van Pelt, Jason Burnham, Marc A. Criley, and many other writers from around the globe.

Available now

New Story: Sale or Return in Scribes Micro Fiction

My story 'Sale of Return' is featured in Issue 4 of Fairfield Scribes Micro Fiction (100 word stories), alongside an interview about the story - free to read now!

Flash Fiction Challenge: Present Tense

From Chuck Wendig:

Write whatever you want. Whatever genre, whatever character, whatever story.

As long as it’s in the present tense.


Since I *love* writing in present tense and have to restrain myself from doing it all the time anyway, this was a treat:


Meltdown - SF - 200 words


Robbie's crying again. 'Hush,' I tell him. 'It's going to be okay.'

It's not, of course, but what else can I say?

We're down to this last half of the kitchen now, blankets on the floor. The walls are already losing their colour, becoming glutinous. It won't be long before my house is gone, become just another part of the slowly-swirling mass that used to be this street. This country. This world, for all I know.

If this is the end of days, maybe we're going somewhere finer. I would not call myself a God-fearing woman but I have done nobody any harm and I have loved my son. Doesn't that make me righteous?

Or maybe we're making way for a parallel universe, like they said on the TV before it stopped working. A new version of us will rise and take our place; a different version, a better version. Or was that just a science fiction show I used to watch?

Robbie's cries turn into coughs, bubbling thickly in his throat. I start to sing quietly, his favourite lullaby. It doesn't help.

I close my eyes and brush the hair back from his face. It's sticky.