Wily Writers for Wily Readers – Fiction E-zine

Addy knew from the start he wasn’t the same as the others. He didn’t have claws nor fangs, didn’t have a tail. He couldn’t effortlessly swing from trees like Ben or swim underwater for ages like Clayton, but everyone is different, aren’t they? (12min)

Excerpt:

‘They came again last night, but Bleacher heard ‘em a mile off and warned me.’ I rubbed my hand through my hair, bits of earth, twigs and a small insect or two fell out onto the pile of crates I called a table. Dasha snatched a hand out quickly, caught one of the juiciest bugs and popped it into her mouth, then looked sheepishly at me.

‘Sorry,’ she said and then crunched her sharp little teeth down onto it. ‘It’s in my genes.’
I laughed; it was an old joke, told many times and it was wearing thin around the edges like a favourite shirt.

‘Knock yourself out, ‘I replied, ‘I’m sure I’ve a crab or two in my crotch, if you want to forage.’

She slapped me playfully, her claws sheathed, and for that I was grateful, ‘I’m not that desperate.’

‘Your loss.’ I shrugged.