Mia and I escape across the plains, and behind us, the sons of the storm god follow on. We are lifetime residents of the North Island, New Zealand. Now at the break of night, we run over its fields and up the hills towards the cliffs. ...
I know he is there—the man who lives in the forest. I am yet to see him directly, but I feel his presence nonetheless. He flows as a shifting shadow between the boughs and branches of the trees — a dancer in the darkness unheard...
“Hey, what’s the difference between a graveyard and a cemetery?” “What?” Togs looks at me, irritated. “You heard me, pal. What’s the difference between a graveyard and a cemetery?” I grimace. “I don’t know, Togs. What is the difference between a graveyard and a cemetery?” He grunts with...
The Crocodile House stands alone in the scrubland; old, abandoned and overgrown. And I use the term ‘stands’ in the loosest possible sense. It must have been a grand place, once, but the building is now a dilapidated wreck. The council put some fences up around...
The scarecrow stands around twelve feet tall. A lone, misshapen sentinel in the midst of a dark field, beneath the blood of a clotted red sky. His shadow is long across the crops. Comprised not of two simple poles and a sack of straw, this monstrosity is...
