In Kilfinane we were known as wild children. And maybe we really were. What should have been another summer camping trip turned into something completely different. On the first night after arriving in Ireland my parents and my aunt and uncle tried to put up a tent in gale force Continue Reading…
I’m not here. Well, to them, I’m not. And even that isn’t true. I’m here all right, there on the wall; my face contorted, a close-up made the moment he pierced the artery in my throat and murdered me. Not a drop of blood or a clue of the horror Continue Reading…
When I was six, my parents told me we were going on a holiday to meet my mother’s parents, my Opa and Oma Australia, who lived on the other side of the world. ‘Where it is summer,’ Mama said. But soon their plans changed, and only my younger brother was Continue Reading…