Over at On Fiction Writing …

… I’m on The Rack.

Which means, yes, again, I am talking, talking, always talking ad infinitum – rather like the Doctor. Yes, I know I’m a Doctor too, but I have neither fez, nor bowtie, nor TARDIS. 🙁

But then again, talking.

The lady made sense and she said it with a voice that could melt bone. Kinda limey with an Alabama twang. One hell of a cocktail.

“Where’s she from?” I whispered it from the side of mouth, the other side smiling so she didn’t catch on.


Sweat popped like acne. The dream had been a warning of some kind – or was it a message?

“Message,” said Sheri.

Goddamnit she reads minds. But cute as hell.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“We need more Australians,” she said.

I wasn’t thinking that. But she was right.

The rest is here.

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