Jakara was out on the rocks amidst the tidepools, the high tide lapping hungrily at the stones. He had a pail half-full of fat crabs, clicking away angrily at him, when he heard the cries for help. Carefully, sure-footed, he clambered over the rocks and peered into the briny cave high above the kelp that bounded the upper limit of the waves.
All in Fairytale
Path to anywhere
There was only the road, stretching on towards the horizon, carving its way through the knee-high brush. Grass heavy with seed nodded dozy heads towards the sky, where the sun hid behind clouds and leant the world a queer blue-grey hue. There were footprints in the dust. Shallow indents that marked the slow passing of feet, heavy with dirt and the detritus of a life lived with blood and ended with the same.
The baboon and the moon
Long ago, when the night was so dark it could swallow the world whole and leave no trace, there lived a baboon. He lived atop a tree so tall its branches caught on passing clouds, and he liked to watch other animals pass by and toss fruit skins at them. Animals did their best to avoid his tree, but the baboon was a clever one, always playing tricks on others, and he would often leave his tree to torment the other animals.
Far in the frozen south
The waters carry secret truths which all who live in them know. The words are whispered amidst the silty particles of sand and drift softly up the estuaries, audible to those who know to listen. In the warm waters of the shallow ponds, the koi know the deepest truths and the most secret legends that the rivers keep in their hearts.
Meataphor
The shimmering black dunes surrounding the little village seemed to take in the sunlight with an endless hunger, and at night mirrored the stars overhead as faint flickers of light drifted over the sands. But the treacherous sands were not the only danger, for iron wolves maraudered over the desert and often in the night a child would vanish into the shadows, never to be seen again.
Why Snail Has a Trail
In the distant past, when animals wore human faces and magic lived in the soul, Snail was a powerful magician of great renown. Where other magicians made their livings performing healing spells or illusions to entertain crowds or hunting the great monsters that roamed the far reaches of the imagination, Snail had chosen a different path.
Dawn Chorus
Her pallet was beside her, curling bark laden with iron-laden red ochre, ochre like sulphurous yolks and sunny days, and the pale white chalky ochre from the far west. The rarest, eggshell blue ochre, she kept separately in a small woven bag.
The Fire and the Flower
On the day she was to be given to the dragon who lived in the mountain depths, Sukhon took the wicked knife she had laid beneath her mattress and hid it in her voluminous silken sleeves.
Shavi renjuzu
This story contains potential triggers.
In the distant past, when all creatures spoke the same language and magic flowed through the air as water flowed over the riverbed, there was a cave. In more modern times it would be called the cave of Chinhoyi, for the brave leader who sheltered his people from adversaries in its labyrinthine depths, but in those far-off days it had another name.