I’ve decided to carve your face. Oh, not literally, of course. Guinevere, our clay sculpture teacher, said we should try making something familiar. And what’s more familiar to me than your face?
All in Fiction
This Is Where The Magic Happens
The homeopath talked and talked and talked. Of miracle cures and deathbed recoveries. Amongst it all, there was something about him being sued by the family of a young girl who’d died, but he didn’t care about that because he was right about cancer and everyone else was wrong.
And Then I Found Her
A virgin, it said. The book in the library told me what she was, and what I was, and why I could see and touch her. She’d chosen me because I was a virgin. Someone pure, the book said. I smiled at that. My sister read the book beside me, while I stroked her hair.
Hanging With Dada
‘Calm down. He’s fine. He’s fine,’ I say at least three hundred times before she stops yelling, but she’s still crying, the crazy bitch. ‘Fuck, Mel, it’s not like I’ve left him on the side of the highway! I can look after my own son!’
The River Runs Dry
A small angry woman, no doubt Bundy’s wife, suddenly stormed through the department. Barefoot and equally red-dusted, she scuttled to the bedside and punched Bundy in the upper arm.