Short fiction


“Helmet off for the guard, Newbug.”

Newbug does not remove her helmet. She only stares, as if behind that black visor she is contemplating Jo appraisingly. 

Jo scratches the buzzed back of her head. Something on her face, maybe.

Jo's due to pick up the Minister in 23 minutes, but conflicting obligations arise when a injured colleague needs her help. On Conflux & CSFG Short Story Competition Winners.*

Winner of the Conflux & CSFG Short Story Competition in 2021. 

Worms, their Carer, and his Friend 

Imagine being one person, loving only one person, Worms thinks. It would be like having a cutlery drawer consisting of a single fork.

A tale as old as time: parasitic fungi hivemind meets boy, boy meets pest control worker who wants them dead. On StarShipSofa ep. 667 (podcast).* 

Transcendence Inc 

Vangelis’s face said fascinating, but his voice said “Hospital?” 

A demon voice actor partners with a scientist to get into a VR heaven. But a contract will only get them so far. At some point Mr Thrift will have to trust Dr Vangelis. In Unnatural Order anthology.

Best Home on the Worst Street 

Nora hasn’t opened the big hatch, the exit hatch, in six years. The girl’s name is Maxine. It took Nora two years to work up to asking it. 

In her ComfortPod, Nora has everything she needs: clean air, remote work, all meals delivered. Everything except Maxine. On Harbinger Press flash fiction.*

Flipping Fat on Middle Fifth 


Why had the other children been released? Or—a thought that gave Nari, in her worse moments, some comfort—returned so faithfully their own parents couldn’t tell the difference, or didn’t want to? 


Ten days later, Gilly came home. 

The Inventor has taken away Nari’s criminal son and built them a perfect replacement. Nari wants her real son back. In Conflux 14. Print only. 

Winner of the CSFG/Conflux Short Story Competition in 2018. 

The Last Magicians of Sad Hill 

“Be aware that any loved ones you may remember have been dead for generations.” Chernobog is taking bites from an apple. The juice dribbles down her chin but she catches it and sucks her fingers thoughtfully. “Except the Mayor. Time moved differently in the zone.” 

Brother Tres, Duo, and Uno have been waiting so long for the train. The woman in black delivers them to the city they sacrificed their youth, memories and magic to save, but their gift has been squandered. In A Hand of Knaves anthology. 



Behind the door there’s scratching, like a single fingernail.


Two uninfected crew. Could be worse. On Queensland Writers Centre flash fiction.* 

Shortlisted in the Queensland Writers Centre Flash Fiction Competition in 2018. 




The sky is darkening. The crowd grows hushed, but the clicking of camera shutters rises to fill the void. We sound like a swarm of crickets.

Two friends watch a solar eclipse as paranoia sets in. On Queensland Writers Centre flash fiction.* 

Shortlisted in the Queensland Writers Centre Flash Fiction Competition in 2018. 

Winder’s Cleaning Services 

I sleep in Winder’s attic. He did not see me for quite the first third of my life until I was fully grown. And he is a professional surveillance man with a flasheye implant. He has several pairs of nice old black leather shoes and I like the way they smell. 

Sole the rat tails Winder going about his routine. Winder tails other people going about theirs, and passes the data and photographs on to the bossratmen with guns. In Aurealis #105. 

Torvald’s Year 

“Did I get it? Do I get my Year in Light? Have I suffered long enough? Have I suffered well?”

Torvald nearly tugged on his manager’s shirtsleeve. That would have been the end of it.

Torvald takes his Year in Light early--despite warnings to save it for retirement--while his family and manager work in the mines. In Capital Letters.* Reprinted in Award Winning Australian Writing 2016

Winner of the ACT Writers Centre Marjorie Graber-McInnis Short Story Award in 2015.


“I can taste it on these teeth. I remember, you brought it to me on a tray, all plastic, and told me to enjoy it while I could. You are very kind.” 

“Yes,” murmurs Walden. “I did say that.”

Pana is on a flight to her Gran’s. The two men seated behind her are Walden and Milogost--prisoner transport, she guesses. She’s half-right, and Walden is mistaken in thinking he can keep the prisoner Milogost contained, either in handcuffs or human skin. In Conflux 11. Print only. 


Placed 3rd in the CSFG/Conflux Short Story Award in 2015. 



Banqueting in Tacitus’s Annals 

In Ancient History: Resources for Teachers 40.1, ed. Dr. J. Lea Beness (2013). ISSN 10323686. Print only. 

* Free to read/listen online