Garry Morris
Bio
Studying writer & musician.
Stories (9)
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Transmutation
I could never understand transmutation before the accident happened. And believe you me, I tried. I tried to comprehend it like many of you do. The endless quest for immortality so many find themselves on. You know, how nothing really dies. How it only changes form.
By Garry Morrisabout a year ago in Fiction
The Lake Fisher
Prologue The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Its flame curled an incandescent light through the eucalypts and stringy bark to the beach, where earlier they had been fishing from the rocks. Neither of them spoke, nor did they move, and from the cabin they made dark silhouettes against the flat silver of the lake.
By Garry Morris4 years ago in Fiction
The Astronomer
Open your eyes. Her words always came back in moments like this. The voice always the same, from the same starry night that I’d sat on her knees looking skyward. “But they’re already open, Mum,” I remember saying back to her. “See, look!” I’d said, turning my head.
By Garry Morris4 years ago in Fiction
Three Gifts of the Fox
Jerry the timberjack did save the fox over the hill, after her howls in the night had woken him. He had walked the cold plain with a gun at his back, treaded careful the creekstones and gone up the grassy slopes that glistened with moon-shine towards where he knew she would be.
By Garry Morris4 years ago in Fiction
The 12th Bus. Top Story - May 2022.
Quiet surrounded the station. The man leaned against a column half concealed by shadow, expressionless, deep in thought. He wore a grey double-breasted woollen jacket, black leather shoes and a black homburg hat, his eyes hidden under the tilted brim. The cold night-time air was speckled with moisture. Fog from the river crawled out from the darkness and made a diaphanous blanket across the road. Above him there was an old lamp shining down a cone of yellow, stuttering light. He drew on a cigarette and briefly regarded it before flicking it into the bin. It was almost time.
By Garry Morris4 years ago in Fiction
Evolution of the Egg
The CRISPR sequence ended up useful far beyond biological research labs and disease prevention. The enhancements to living organisms had long been theorised, trialled in low-risk experiment—incremented gradual across decades, ethics policies rewritten with each after rigorous enquiry—but it wasn’t until the fallout that its potential was embraced by the masses. After the bombs fell. When the ozone thinned and holes widened across the globe to make a Swiss cheese of a sky turned orange and perpetually black.
By Garry Morris4 years ago in Fiction
The Fisherman Falls In Love
I fell in love with a zombie once. She was tall and prim and held herself remarkably well. We met by the gulls, down by the beach in the gaps between the stinking rubbish piles. She was fossicking for old shoes. I do not know for what reason. Shoes, and hidden stashes of carrion. Late enough in the day that the sun was reflected on the water, and it was hard to make out her face. I could tell she was beautiful all the same.
By Garry Morris4 years ago in Fiction
