About:

I am a horror, speculative fiction, and romance writer from Queensland Australia. I have suffered from chronic fatigue syndrome since December 2006 and intend to become a successful writer in Australia and overseas. I have a dozen novels in first draft and have written hundreds of  short stories and poems.

Short Story - The Secret:

... I walked over and opened it up. She used to lock me in here when I was bad. That’s why I have the nightmares. It was empty. The walls were cracked and browned with age and it smelled of dry wood. It was more of a cupboard than a pantry: there were no shelves, and I could see where they used to be. On the back wall was a gold coat hanger. It was difficult to see because of the subdued light, so I stepped inside, curious ...

 

 Read the entire story here -- 

 

More on Graham Masterton:

Writing has many advantages, and what better place to learn, than to pick up a book by Graham Masterton and marvel at how he consistently occupies shelves with horror fiction that will blow you away. Read more on how Graham has influenced me as a writer by clicking here.

 

Drum-Beat Poem, 'A Bird, To Death':

Deeply cast shadows on the wall, they dance

In some twisted illusion of naked romance,

As I wake from my horrors of a broken mind,

My memories haunt me and in me, they grind.

Eyes open wide to accept the light,

Body recovering from the fright.

I look at the clock but it seems without power

Just a dead black box: in my bed, I cower.

 

Then a noise flies to my ears

Awakening more of my inner fears,

I don’t want to move and my body agrees

But it’s only a dream but in my mind, it feeds.

I pinch my arm but I’m still right here

And my heart pounds faster, fearing the fear,

So my fingers crawl to the edge of my sheet

And finding the floor, I place my feet.

 

My hands feel cold on the warm brass handle,

The light switch broken – now where’s the candle?

Downstairs, the kitchen, the same as the sound

Which no longer exists from being drowned.

But then I see beyond the darkness

Two bright eyes – no mistaking their sharpness.

The neighbours cat, probably grinning at me,

Waiting for its third degree.

 

But a pain in my back makes me fall down,

And I tumble over stairs, splitting my crown

And I look up to see before I die

A little bird chirping goodbye.

More --

 

Damien Kane © 2008

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