Megan Anderson
Bio
Loves a yarn. Draws a bit. Sings in the yard. Spells things the Australian way.
Stories (15)
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Always on my Mind. Third Place in 2023 Vocal Writing Awards - Flash Fiction.
I pay top dollar for the Elvis suit. She’s worth it. I knock – guitar in one hand, rhinestones glinting in the porchlight – and she greets me in a bathrobe. Perfect. She’s perfect. Right down to her dropped jaw. Adorable.
By Megan Anderson2 years ago in Poets
Neighbours. Second Place in Microfiction Magic Challenge. Top Story - June 2023.
They’re feuding. Have been for months. Next time, the dog gets a bullet. She ruffles Baxter’s fur – watch it buddy – but one whiff of sheep and he’s over the fence, ears pinned, nipping at lamb rumps.
By Megan Anderson3 years ago in Fiction
I'll have that pen, thanks. Second 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 Anderson4 years ago in Petlife
Glimmer. First 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 Anderson4 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 Anderson4 years ago in Fiction
