Roy1
Roy G
Fiction:
The Animator by Chris Butler
illustrated by Ben Badlwin
Mr Jackson’s studio nestled in the northwest sector of Autumn City, in an area known for its jewellers and clothing emporiums. The streets outside buzzed with hectic activity, the clatter of cycles and rickshaws, street sellers calling, all through the daylight hours, while we laboured quietly inside.
Hypermnemonic by Melanie Tem
illustrated by David Gentry
“I remember every single thing about you,” I said to your father as planned.
“Is that so?” His voice still smelled gamey, like venison roasted rare.
Deer meat. Of course you wouldn’t know that smell. Wild, dark, bloody. Barely done being part of one life force before being appropriated for another one.
The International Studbook of the Giant Panda by Carlos Hernandez
illustrated by Martin Hanford
It’s a cool Pacific-coast morning when I pull up to the gate of the American Panda Mission’s campus. Security is tight: two guards cradling M-16s and girdled in kevlar ask me what I am doing here.
Paskutinis Iliuzija (The Last Illusion) by Damien Walters Grintalis
illustrated by Dave Senecal
Andrius Kavalauskas, the last magician of Lithuania, closed the door and rested his head against the wood as the nurse’s footsteps faded away. He smelled cabbage and pork cooking from the apartment across the hallway and knew that in a few hours he would find a plate of food sitting by his door. Daina was a good neighbor. A good friend.
The Face Tree by Antony Mann
illustrated by Martin Hanford
[FONT="] It was spring, the time of new growth, and the leaves on the trees were pushing out from the axils, tight rolls of green waiting to unfurl. Davison had stopped at The Prince of Wales on his way back from the city, sitting on his own in the corner, reading the paper and glancing at the crossword while he sipped on his pint and let the quiet soak into him. It had been another crappy morning. Business was slow. He was getting so little money now from the walking tours that soon he would be forced back into teaching English to the foreigners. Something was keeping the tourists away. Maybe it was the downturn, or maybe it was just him.
[/FONT]plus the usual book and film reviews [FONT="]
[/FONT]
The Animator by Chris Butler
illustrated by Ben Badlwin
Mr Jackson’s studio nestled in the northwest sector of Autumn City, in an area known for its jewellers and clothing emporiums. The streets outside buzzed with hectic activity, the clatter of cycles and rickshaws, street sellers calling, all through the daylight hours, while we laboured quietly inside.
Hypermnemonic by Melanie Tem
illustrated by David Gentry
“I remember every single thing about you,” I said to your father as planned.
“Is that so?” His voice still smelled gamey, like venison roasted rare.
Deer meat. Of course you wouldn’t know that smell. Wild, dark, bloody. Barely done being part of one life force before being appropriated for another one.
The International Studbook of the Giant Panda by Carlos Hernandez
illustrated by Martin Hanford
It’s a cool Pacific-coast morning when I pull up to the gate of the American Panda Mission’s campus. Security is tight: two guards cradling M-16s and girdled in kevlar ask me what I am doing here.
Paskutinis Iliuzija (The Last Illusion) by Damien Walters Grintalis
illustrated by Dave Senecal
Andrius Kavalauskas, the last magician of Lithuania, closed the door and rested his head against the wood as the nurse’s footsteps faded away. He smelled cabbage and pork cooking from the apartment across the hallway and knew that in a few hours he would find a plate of food sitting by his door. Daina was a good neighbor. A good friend.
The Face Tree by Antony Mann
illustrated by Martin Hanford
[FONT="] It was spring, the time of new growth, and the leaves on the trees were pushing out from the axils, tight rolls of green waiting to unfurl. Davison had stopped at The Prince of Wales on his way back from the city, sitting on his own in the corner, reading the paper and glancing at the crossword while he sipped on his pint and let the quiet soak into him. It had been another crappy morning. Business was slow. He was getting so little money now from the walking tours that soon he would be forced back into teaching English to the foreigners. Something was keeping the tourists away. Maybe it was the downturn, or maybe it was just him.
[/FONT]plus the usual book and film reviews [FONT="]
[/FONT]
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