THE STORIES ARE WAITING
THE
ARCHIVE
Short horror stories from Tasmania. Ordinary lives, broken certainty, and roads that should never have been followed.
THE STORIES ARE WAITING
Short horror stories from Tasmania. Ordinary lives, broken certainty, and roads that should never have been followed.
THE COMPLETE LIBRARY

relentless, unforgiving, ripping, tearing, mauling my everything, twisting, turning, polluting my soul, my sin, making me, something different, someone new, something hidden, something free,…

It was a cold and windy night when I went across the street to fetch Margaret from the Fishers, she had spent the night…

Words, you use them as a weapon, you twist and you turn them, making them something, they shouldn’t be, hiding behind them, so others…

It was a cold and windy night when I went across the street to fetch Margaret from the Fishers, she had spent the night…

Inside I am dying, while outside I seem full of life, but it’s a lie, it’s a shield, a cheap magic trick, to deceive…

“It’s going to make us fucking rich,” he says as he raises the bottle over his head, and leans back, poring it’s contents into…

Your blood soaks into my skin, as I bathe in what you were, what a word that is, were, the past, and not the…

“It’s going to make us fucking rich,” he says as he raises the bottle over his head, and leans back, poring it’s contents into…

“They said it came from the foot hills of a place that no longer exists, bathed in the blood of kings and queens, with…

Death, it stalks me, it calls my name, I dare not answer, I dare not show my fear, for it wants me, it needs…

“They said it came from the foot hills of a place that no longer exists, bathed in the blood of kings and queens, with…
THE ROAD DOESN’T END HERE