When your sister murders three hundred people, you can’t help but wonder why – especially if you were one of the intended victims.
My older brother, Deng, doesn’t live with us anymore. I don’t know where he went.
Ivy’s hand trembled as she drew the brush over her lips, in danger of smudging the bright colour.
Dear young girls, Home again from the deserts and oases of the Sheikdoms I find your enthusiastic letters on my desk.
They were young, educated, and both virgins on this, their wedding night, and they lived in a time when a conversation about sexual difficulties was plainly impossible.
The sharks are circling, their nostrils twitching at the scent of blood.
There was something about the colour of the Kimberley sky that gave Free a shiver of joy every time she drove home to Paterson Downs.
Late for work, Reginald Oren raced across the street, the cobblestones slick from the night’s rain.
And on the Shabbat, the priests would sing a song for the future that is to come, for that day which will be entirely Shabbat and for the repose of eternal life.
