No Fairytale

No Fairytale was shortlisted for the Scarlet Stiletto, Sisters in Crime competition in 2016. If I was to dedicate this story to anyone, it would be to the giant slayers; those that speak the truth, listen with their heart and seek justice for the abused, the violated and the forgotten.

Click on the link below to read this short story.






Murder, Mayhem and Knitting

There are many things that took their toll on my health and sanity during my life, and so I had to give them up: gambling, booze, cigarettes, dope, promiscuous sex, and now knitting. I know it’s not going to be easy but it’s not like I’ve been knitting every day for years. In fact I’m a relatively new knitter, just a few months, but I’m suffering.

It all started when I felt guilty; and what recovering addict doesn’t feel guilty for the waste and destruction they inflict on themselves and others. I was watching a lot of mystery and crime shows on television, and that sustained act of passive self indulgence invoked the guilt that lies coiled like a serpent in my belly. It rared up and hissed its venomous self-hate at me. But I am no Li Ji, the snake slayer. The only way to appease it is to be a good and useful person, so I determined that I would knit rugs for young, old and cold people, while I watched my shows.

I am quite a proficient knitter, and thus began knitting squares with my leftover wool. However it wasn’t long before I was haunting the op-shops and haberdashery looking for 12 ply deals. I soon tired of having to sew the nine squares together, and moved onto knitting strips. But I wanted more. Could I fit a whole rug on a pair of needles? A rhetorical question because once you imagine it possible you try it, no matter what the cost. So my squares became a solitary unit of stripes.

To finish them off I crocheted the edges. And as I watched the pile strewn over the couch increase in number, I only wanted to make more. I named them: Death in Paradise, Poirot, Midsomer Murders, Dr Blake, Dalziel but I was running out of mysteries on the TV, so I visited the library and there it was, the penultimate Danish mystery; The Killing, twenty murderous hours of knitting.

And that’s what did it! Inflamed biceps, repetition strain injury, tendonitis, call it what you will, but unless I want to integrate a daily dose of anti-inflammatory drugs into my life I’m going to have to give up knitting.

How to assuage my guilt now? Of course I could just stop watching mysteries on the television and write them. Yes, I’ll do that. You can purchase one here.