Ali Howarth
Bio
Antipodean. Powered by tea.
Stories (5/0)
Kindling
The pages whisper and rustle, sharing the dreams of dead kings, the mutterings of philosophers, the fancies of writers. The smell of the books evoke living history, crackling manuscripts. The marks on the smooth, creamy whiteness, from your brain to mine, across time and space.
By Ali Howarthabout a year ago in Poets
Memories of summer
An old-fashioned slide show of childish sensory memory: the baking heat shimmer rippling the air above a Sydney beach; plunging into the smooth glass-green surface of an ocean wave before it can crest; dusty salt crystals coating our peeling skin in patterns of continental drift whenever we dry out for long enough; the ever-present delicious smell of the coconut tanning oil drifting across the sand; the red and yellow lifesaver flags vivid against the upturned blue bowl of sky.
By Ali Howarthabout a year ago in Feast
- Top Story - June 2022
Dragon TrialsTop Story - June 2022
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Dragons only ever migrated down from the Star Reaches when the winter cold reached its peak, which was around every three years. No one was quite sure why the winters ran in cycles like this, from a misting chill in our long safe valley to the cold Freeze where the snow would creep down the very slopes of the Star Reaches, and even begin to invade the gentle swamps that gave us most of our food and colour.
By Ali Howarth2 years ago in Fiction
