Megan Anderson
Bio
Loves a yarn. Draws a bit. Sings in the yard. Spells things the Australian way.
Stories (15/0)
The Middle of the Air
If walls could talk, this place would be a circus. Police cars spilling red-blue-red-blue onto the concourse. Uniforms blustering in, handcuffs jangling. Telephones would bleat, buzzers would whine. Harried workers in scrubs would gather in clusters, fingers pressed to their temples. Old folks in recliners, mouths agape, would swivel their bewildered heads like sideshow clowns.
By Megan Andersonabout a month ago in Fiction
- V+ Fiction Award Winner
- Second Place in EmPAWyee of the Month Challenge
I'll have that pen, thanksSecond Place in EmPAWyee of the Month Challenge
First, a technicality. I’m not so much an employee as I am the boss. I mean, it’s a pretty flat hierarchy around here but I think it’s well understood that without me on the office floor, nothing much would get done.
By Megan Andersonabout a year ago in Petlife
- First Place in SFS 7: Long Thaw
GlimmerFirst Place in SFS 7: Long Thaw
When it showed up, Erling blamed his broken heart. Too much time brooding in the December gloom, he thought. Seeing things. But there was really no mistaking it. In this dark, deserted, Arctic landscape: a shimmering light. Not the ghostly glow of snow under an inky sky, or the silky bloom of an Aurora. This was different. It was luminous, rippling, amorphous – and close. It was below him, in the pond. It was under the ice.
By Megan Anderson2 years ago in Fiction
Going up
Theirs was a hate-hate relationship, but there were payoffs. For Casey, it was money. Paltry, but enough to get her closer to where she needed to be. For Ryan, it was social mobility. With her in his life, he got to experience the city like he never would on his own. When they stepped out together, they owned the Upper East side. Nobody remarked on the age gap – she was 17 years his senior – yet privately it was the thing that put them most at loggerheads. They barely had a thing in common. Casey was a singer, a dancer, fully alive to the Manhattan offering, an Australian abroad, brimming with dreams. Ryan was single minded, quarrelsome, self-absorbed, contrary. A New York native, not quite three years old.
By Megan Anderson2 years ago in Fiction
