This collection of stories is a ghastly, beautiful tour through a series of apocalypses. However the world ends; with flowers falling from the sky, with families turning to gingerbread or with bands of survivors patrolling safe zones, these are stories of queer female relationships, sex, bodies, intimacy and motherhood. This collection will elicit tears, laughter, shock, hope and despair. Monstrous, beautiful and consuming.
One of the young lads started swearing softly, retraced his steps for a few metres, turning in wide circles to try to see between the trees. A crunch; an awful, tiny cry. The young lad went white, lifted a foot. On the heel of his boot, a splash of bright blood, bits of gore dripping from the sole.
Don't move, he whispered, frantic. You’ll step on them.
The other young lad and the sisters, who’d been about to join him, stopped. The young lad bent one hand to the ground and scooped up two small people. Barely the size of his pinkie finger, now, and shrinking fast. I thought I recognised the parents of some of the children you’d been playing the gestures game with around the fire. The tiny figures clutched each other, grew smaller and smaller. Around us, the forest went quiet.
Bet didn’t have to say the words. The young lad dropped the tiny parents beside their bite-sized children and the other tiny figures who had been part of our group, and he, like rest of us remaining, turned to keep walking.
