Flash Fiction

The cry of the Kuaka

Roly Andrews

5.0 out of 5 stars Well worth reading Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 12, 2015 A long tangled weave of a story bringing together different cultures but with the important thread, belief in where you have come from. A remarkable first book reminiscent of Amy Tan and her family sagas

The Nightmare Shop

Roly Andrews

"The box in the very middle," the man pointed. "You see it? The one with the red and yellow stripes. That box contains nightmares. I bought them about ten years ago. Never sold one, not a single nightmare, so I put them back in here five years ago. Now I need the space, so I want to get rid of them."

Uncle Gregory (aka The suicide tree)

Roly Andrews

Unafraid, I welcomed him. With a subtle cold breeze blowing, I beckoned him closer, sympathetically throwing golden leaves before him, laying a soft autumnal path. As usual, there were no birds to frighten into the skies. Superstitious and afraid; they had not rested, roosted, nor nested anywhere near me for many years. Wary, fear of guilt by association, they stayed away. 

Uncle Gregory (aka The suicide tree)

Roly Andrews

“You killed my son,” the man screamed. “You killed my son!”

Roly Andrews - Story Teller

Uncle Gregory (aka The suicide tree)

He had come to cut me down.

I watched him approach. Weighed down by more than the chain saw he shouldered, his force evaporated space in front of him. Yet, I could see gravity taking its toll, grinding him closer to the ground, the sky pressing, squeezing, flattening him.

I saw tears in his eyes, anger in his cheeks. Early morning vapour exploded from his lungs, flumes of expelled air as vigorous as dragons’ breath, as powerful as a training horse. This man was on a mission, and I knew what it was.

He had come to cut me down.

Unafraid, I welcomed him. With a subtle cold breeze blowing, I beckoned him closer, sympathetically throwing golden leaves before him, laying a soft autumnal path. As usual, there were no birds to frighten into the skies. Superstitious and afraid; they had not rested, roosted…

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