Felix Alexander Holt
Bio
I live in Tasmania but with strong connections to Scotland. Under my hat you will find a shape shifter in storying. I regard all genres as rooms in the collective mind. I want to write the mansion.
Otherwise I garden.
Stories (11/0)
The Owl
Computers were devouring me. They were eating me alive. The internet was a monster sucking nervous energy from my insides. My social life in messages and posts, gambling, porn. Yeah. Porn. Such rich colors. Real life was dull fare. Then I was sacked for spending so much time on my phone at work. I knew better but Mr Should was not Mr Driver.
By Felix Alexander Holt3 years ago in Humans
Dada Freud
Dada Freud I allege a cover-up of epic proportions. The existence of the Dada Scientists has long been denied. And, for years, the monster evolved by this group, the Idman, now known as the Dada Freud, has been hushed-up. We are going to pay for that.
By Felix Alexander Holt3 years ago in Horror
I Chase the Comet
It was a familiar noise, but John Everyman went to his second-floor window anyway. The back yard of the house next door. There was a dog, Jack Russel terrier, white and leggy, made of springs and enthusiasm but the owners were out for the day and it was locked in.
By Felix Alexander Holt3 years ago in Humans
Too bad for Humanity
They were standing in the staff room of their laboratory, just the two of them. The troubles of the world showed on the TV monitor: angry people, war, famine, megalomaniacs. But he had to turn it off. She was telling him something. It was a shock. Had they wasted their time? All that research? All those hours? The profound results they had paid for with their nervous systems?
By Felix Alexander Holt3 years ago in Horror
Everyman and the Past
John Everyman, your past is an invisible self. He walks with you. Forever at your side. I knew a man in conversation with his Past. Always. Obsessed. When he woke in the morning, he would turn away from his wife to the one in bed with them. His Past. He would start his day-long pestering of Mr Past. Blah, blah blah, he’d go, while she examined her fingernails.
By Felix Alexander Holt3 years ago in Humans
All the big moments
It was a black cat with a white mask and, as it sat on the back porch, it looked like a burglar. All about her the suburb hummed with distant vehicles. The brick and timber houses were hedged with rhododendrons and cotoneasters, with their red berries, or overlooked by white eucalypts, some of them survivors from the recent days when all this was forest.
By Felix Alexander Holt3 years ago in Humans
A Crystal Ball of Ruby
“Well then,” said Auntie Helen, “have you done your research?” She could see Shelly had her computer note pad ready, so Helen put on her black reading glasses. She was sixty something, allowed her hair to go grey, accepting, had it tied at the back but the sides a bit wispy. She wore a long top with a hint of Marrakech or Kathmandu, a slightly hippyish look. She was fit and healthy and still made a great impression on a pair of jeans.
By Felix Alexander Holt3 years ago in Humans
