Dead Ends is an anthology of short stories. These stories chart my career as an author to date. Most of the stories in this volume have been published in anthologies by small press publishing houses, while a few have never been seen outside of my writing group.
All of them explore the themes of grief, loss, and sacrifice.
The first story in the collection, Her Harlequin Baby, won the Inkitt End Game horror competition in August 2015.
Buy link: AMAZON
Here is an excerpt from Tribulation, a story set in a post-apocalytpic survivor's camp. Young Tony discovers that their charismatic leader has been lying to his congregation for years, and when he brings it to the attention of the people living in his camp, he is punished for speaking out in the harshest way.
Here is an excerpt from Tribulation, a story set in a post-apocalytpic survivor's camp. Young Tony discovers that their charismatic leader has been lying to his congregation for years, and when he brings it to the attention of the people living in his camp, he is punished for speaking out in the harshest way.
"A mouse scurried between the rocks at Tony's feet. He watched it for a while then threw a stone at it to chase it off. He sat above the Long Tom pass, the sun barely warming his back, its light struggling to penetrate the haze. Tony put his elbows on his knees and rested his head on his crossed arms. A heavy anguish sat on his heart, leaching all the energy from his body and constricting his throat.
Tony felt the gun at his hip. His fingers traced the cold metal of the grip. The next time George tried to lay a hand on him he would blow the miserable bastard’s brains right out of his skull.
"Screw the consequences," Tony said.
A cold spear of guilt pierced his already aching heart. Tony put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the folded scrap of paper which he'd found slipped under his bedroom door this morning.
I love you Tony
XXX
He lifted his head and stared out across the rolling hills below. A brief flash of light drove all of Tony's worries from his mind.
"Holy shit! What was that?"
Tony stared fixedly at the point in the foliage below where he thought he'd seen that flash. He was beginning to think he'd imagined it when he saw it again, a brief flicker, a glint of light off of a reflective surface, like the sun shining off the tin roofs of his compound. Tony’s heart drummed in his chest, he could hear a strange ringing inside his head. He kept his eyes fixed on the trees and bushes below until it seemed as though the leaves all blurred into one undulating ocean of green.
On the overgrown track below him two old, battered cars finally emerged from the dense foliage. They were making their way slowly and carefully along the long-abandoned road. They were large vehicles, sitting high atop thick tyres which took all but the largest ditches and rocks in their stride.
About three loops up the pass, the two cars came to a halt. There was a large chasm in the track where a section almost as wide as the vehicles had been washed away. The doors of the lead vehicle opened and four figures stepped out, they walked to the edge of the gash in the road. The driver’s door on the second car opened and another person joined the group at the chasm.
They spoke for some time, pointing at the hole, at the valley and up at the pass. The group split up and returned to their respective cars, but they didn't climb back in, they started hauling equipment out of the cars.
Tony could not wait any longer. If he left now he would make it to the compound in time for the evening sermon. The travellers would surely not travel at night and if he could warn the community in time they would be able to prepare for these people. He ran all the way back to the compound."
Tony felt the gun at his hip. His fingers traced the cold metal of the grip. The next time George tried to lay a hand on him he would blow the miserable bastard’s brains right out of his skull.
"Screw the consequences," Tony said.
A cold spear of guilt pierced his already aching heart. Tony put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the folded scrap of paper which he'd found slipped under his bedroom door this morning.
I love you Tony
XXX
He lifted his head and stared out across the rolling hills below. A brief flash of light drove all of Tony's worries from his mind.
"Holy shit! What was that?"
Tony stared fixedly at the point in the foliage below where he thought he'd seen that flash. He was beginning to think he'd imagined it when he saw it again, a brief flicker, a glint of light off of a reflective surface, like the sun shining off the tin roofs of his compound. Tony’s heart drummed in his chest, he could hear a strange ringing inside his head. He kept his eyes fixed on the trees and bushes below until it seemed as though the leaves all blurred into one undulating ocean of green.
On the overgrown track below him two old, battered cars finally emerged from the dense foliage. They were making their way slowly and carefully along the long-abandoned road. They were large vehicles, sitting high atop thick tyres which took all but the largest ditches and rocks in their stride.
About three loops up the pass, the two cars came to a halt. There was a large chasm in the track where a section almost as wide as the vehicles had been washed away. The doors of the lead vehicle opened and four figures stepped out, they walked to the edge of the gash in the road. The driver’s door on the second car opened and another person joined the group at the chasm.
They spoke for some time, pointing at the hole, at the valley and up at the pass. The group split up and returned to their respective cars, but they didn't climb back in, they started hauling equipment out of the cars.
Tony could not wait any longer. If he left now he would make it to the compound in time for the evening sermon. The travellers would surely not travel at night and if he could warn the community in time they would be able to prepare for these people. He ran all the way back to the compound."
About the Author:
Angela started writing stories when she was 8 years old. Her first story was about Indiana Jones and she wrote it on pages she tore out of her school books. She has come a long way since those early days. She invents her own heroes now, but she tries to keep the sense of passion and wonder that infused her early forays into the craft.
When she’s not herding her three children through the garden of their Johannesburg home, Angela surrounds herself with words in all their glorious forms. She is the submissions editor for an online magazine, the lead technical writer for a fast-growing software company, a dedicated author and a voracious reader.
She tends to write darker stories, and enjoys experimenting with genre. Horror and fantasy will always be her first loves (yes, she can have two), but she also enjoys science fiction and thrillers.
Her short stories can be found in numerous anthologies and self-published on Amazon.com.
Follow Angela online: Facebook Twitter Goodreads Her Blog
Angela started writing stories when she was 8 years old. Her first story was about Indiana Jones and she wrote it on pages she tore out of her school books. She has come a long way since those early days. She invents her own heroes now, but she tries to keep the sense of passion and wonder that infused her early forays into the craft.
When she’s not herding her three children through the garden of their Johannesburg home, Angela surrounds herself with words in all their glorious forms. She is the submissions editor for an online magazine, the lead technical writer for a fast-growing software company, a dedicated author and a voracious reader.
She tends to write darker stories, and enjoys experimenting with genre. Horror and fantasy will always be her first loves (yes, she can have two), but she also enjoys science fiction and thrillers.
Her short stories can be found in numerous anthologies and self-published on Amazon.com.
Follow Angela online: Facebook Twitter Goodreads Her Blog
