Hierdie is die LitNet-argief (2006–2012)
Besoek die aktiewe LitNet-platform by www.litnet.co.za

This is the LitNet archive (2006–2012)
Visit the active LitNet platform at www.litnet.co.za

Nuwe skryfwerk | New writing > Fiksie | Fiction > English > Unpublished authors

Unpublished authors

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Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Tess Holland - 2011-03-09

Kompetisie: Twee torsels van brons
Deon Knobel - 2011-03-09
Twee torsels van brons Gefilterde strale van die son deur riffelglas van vensters val streep’rig oor torso’s van brons Donker doemprofete van onheil Gefilterde strale van die son deur riffelglas van vensters verlig twee torso’s van brons tot dans van vreugde en – jubeling By stokkies-draai vir vroeg-oggend vuur het sy stip na die houtjies gekyk En toe sy vlammetjies sien lek haar oë gedraai en eenmaal geknik Oor lekkende vlamme van knetterende vuur het sy weer...

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Tess Holland - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Gisela Ullyatt - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Ben Coetzee - 2011-03-09
Piet van Wyk, top marksman within and outside the comfort of a rifle range, was hunting a menacing leopard in the Nwaswitsaka Creek where it ran through the Skukuza staff village. Notoriously dangerous when under pursuit, his quarry had already leaped when Piet saw and shot it in mid-air while himself falling backward into the reeds. The leopard was dead on arrival. (This true micro story is based on an original account in my self-published booklet, “Birth of an African Landscape”:...

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Enthroned
Marlies Craig - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Waiting
Ina du Toit - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: The hunt
Richard Street - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Cycle of life
Richard Street - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Experience
Zenta Haink - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: No Littering
Carol Leff - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: On the River's Edge
Carol Leff - 2011-03-09

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: A humble warrior
Gavin Street - 2011-03-08

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: A toast to life
Thea Barkhuizen - 2011-03-08

Leopard's Leap 60 words competition: Heart of stone
Bruno FA Andries - 2011-03-02

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Imprint in a cave
Roshila Nair - 2011-03-02

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Intimacy
Roshila Nair - 2011-03-02

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition: Leaping Leopards
Wendy Lopatin - 2011-03-02
Leaping LeopardsLong-limbed, sleek, lithe leaping leopards lurking as they stalk their prey Let no hunter seeking bounty harm them, save the leopards for today Naturally selecting leopard luring deer into his lair Sated, slept, by dawn awakened Time to hunt, that's nature's fare. Leopards – rescue from extinction Spotted cats we must conserve Keep the graceful leopards leaping Safe and free, that's their preserve. Click here for the competition details. Read the entries...

Leopard’s Leap 60 words competition
Dionne Crafford - 2011-03-01

A Blonde walked into the room
Gillian Schutte - 2011-02-16
A blonde walked into the room. Tokyo’s loins stirred like a shifting crocodile on the banks of the Limpopo … or perhaps a mole on the first day of spring … or possibly an idea about to be birthed. The point is that they stirred and this took him by surprise. He had not felt stirred for some time now, which had not really bothered him much. What bothered him more was the fact that they were now stirring quite a bit and he was inclined to visualise all sorts of wanton erotic scenarios...

A conversation with Jesus on a Tuesday afternoon
Werner Botes - 2009-07-15
“Welcome back Jesus.” “Silly boy,” He said, “I’ve been here all along. Now we’ve set those fiery tongues a-wagging, haven’t we? You with your honest open homosexuality, and Me not being so quick to smite as they would lead you to believe …” “Mighty God Yahweh I want to be Holy, not full of holes. I am bland salt: the bygone years were rough on me, I was a wilting man, a dried-up...

The Wild Peach Tree
Rae Nash - 2009-07-01
Once upon a time a truck driver called Mampoen decided to detour from her usual route. She did not make the decision lightly. She was proud of her reputation of reliability and knew that her boss would disapprove of one of his trucks' being taken off its designated route - especially if it was on to a gravel road. All the way up from Cape Town she had tossed the possibility around in her head. The lightness of the load in the truck fuelled her feeling of recklessness. She knew she would never...

The colour of love
Gillian Schutte - 2009-05-26
Why did you choose a white woman? My lover is neither white nor is she black. She is a blank word document, a luminous blaze pale as white dripped candlelight. There are times my heart stands still when I see her sitting at a table surrounded by others, alabaster skin glowing amongst the dull pallor of them. I want to catch her in a gossamer net and bottle her inexplicable beam. When did I fall in love with her, this enigma that is neither beautiful nor ugly, neither earthly nor heavenly? She...

The colour of love
Gillian Schutte - 2009-05-06
Why did you choose a white woman? My lover is neither white, nor is she black. She is a blank Word document, a luminous blaze, pale as white dripped candlelight. There are times my heart stops when I see her sitting at a table surrounded by others, alabaster skin glowing amongst the dull pallor of them. I want to catch her in a gossamer net and bottle her inexplicable beam. When did I fall in love with her, this enigma that is neither beautiful nor ugly, neither earthly nor heavenly? She is the...

Side path
Gillian Schutte - 2009-03-31
She is walking on the side path of her married life - as she has been doing for a few years now. She has created this well-worn path out of necessity because the central path is cluttered up with "ifs" and "whys" and "maybes". After years of clearing up others' paths she is just too tired to bend down and pick up her own doubts. Besides, there are very few empty spaces left to pack them. This circumvented pathway has led her to many possible encounters - mainly with...

M Labuschagne - 2009-03-18
1 “The Indians in north-west India are much fairer than the Indians of south-east of India,” said the Indian woman while she played with her cigarette. Her name was Priya. She was the epitome of Bollywood beauty: flawless skin, light brown eyes and black eyes – except, of course, that she was chubbier. O yes, and she smoked. And fucked on the first date. We'd started chatting with each other earlier the evening in a bar. It was lust at first sight. I seduced her all...

Of the short man and the translator
Ndaba Sibanda - 2009-02-25
Monday It is a dream come true for Sipho Mbongolo. His prayers have been answered. “Sipho, as a matter of interest, with whom are you staying in Old Magwegwe?” Madam Mumba is relaxing on a gold-coated garden chair; her back is fidgeting as if itchy, or as if resting on something prickly. So short are her lacey shorts that Sipho’s eyes are magnetically riveted to where her huge legs are joined together in a union of fat and flesh. The sight simply drives Sipho’s poor...

Angelica non grata
Lynne Forbes - 2008-12-01
"No. Absolutely not," said Raphael firmly, hands on his slender hips and trying to make his chin look particularly determined.Gabriel stamped his foot and pouted a little. "I am sick to my stomach of white, and - reality check - you are not the boss of me."Raphael regarded his flat-mate wearily. This was an ongoing argument since they moved in together and it was draining him. Nevertheless he launched into the fray. "Minimalism. We agreed. Clean lines, tidy. Bright, like...

Recharged: The Soweto Gospel Power Station
Dominic Marx - 2008-10-13
Having become annoyed as usual with the inevitable struggle (anywhere in greater London) to find a parking space within an hour I found my mood miraculously lifting as we finally walked into the lobby area of The Victoria Theatre in Woking and I heard a woman say, "Het jy die kaartjies Herman?" Herman's nonchalant response while patting his jacket and then trouser pockets just about floored me. "Kaartjies, kaartjies ... Mowbray, Rondebosch, Wynberg - alle kaartjies asseblief."...

Modimolle, mountain of the gods
Lucas Ledwaba - 2008-08-15
Malome Boy-Boy was the only known person in the village's long history to ascend the sacred mountain of Modimolle and return. But they said because of this violation of the age-old village rule he was never the same man when he returned after a week on the sacred mountain's summit. For as long as everyone, including the village's oldest citizens could remember, it had always been taboo for anyone to set foot on Modimolle. It was not even clear if there was indeed anyone except malome Boy Boy who...

Red shift
Steven Marston - 2008-07-24
One couldn’t tell at a glance where the ocean ended and the night sky began. That slick, tarred Indian was bobbing the chocka boats, masquerading as stars out on the horizon. Leaving all the little lights before us in motion, either drifting or red-shifting away, just for Louise and me.A lonely car worked its way along Marine Drive, past King's Beach and the playground, until it past from sight and then further still until it was out of earshot. And the ocean continued to throw itself at the...

Steven Marston - 2008-07-23
There was no naked girl next to me in bed. No ripped condom packets on the bedside. Not even a glass of water. The room had taken on the stench of brandy. I tried to recollect the previous night, but I found only pieces. I remembered the pub and the dance floor and the lithe blonde who wanted nothing to do with me. I remembered dancing like a dick. Somehow I had figured the lithe blonde was playing hard to get. Somehow the bouncers had seen it otherwise. I remembered the casino and loosing badly...

Civil hands
Steven Marston - 2008-06-10
I just have to get through today, like I did yesterday. Then it’s a matter of repeating the process for a month or so. Until the date on my ticket matches the date on my mobile. And then home and back to the Republic. Should be easy enough to do. Just need to keep my head down and not think to about things too much. It shouldn’t have happened. I still don’t remember how I got into that room. So much thought has gone into that night and I’ve such few memories to work with....

Civil blood
Steven Marston - 2008-06-10
The hotel was just off Earl’s Court, and it catered mostly to businessmen, mostly overweight Yanks and over-friendly Japanese. It was a very efficient and functional place. The head chef was a forty-year-old Scotsman who had a grudge against the world. He was now a complete bastard, like most chefs. The reason for his anger was work-related. He had spent the last five years of his life in the hotel, where he went about creating masterpieces from culinary media. He considered himself an artiste...

Meet the Patels
Saaleha Bhamjee - 2008-05-22
Mrs Patel settled herself more comfortably on her wobbly three-quarter bed. The bed creaked appreciably. It was a high bed, thanks to the two bricks that supported each of the four legs. She pulled her pants up a little higher, so that half of her hairy calves became exposed. She undid the knot of her scarf from beneath her chin and threw it on the bed. She was just in from her afternoon stroll, which entailed a stop at each of her many acquaintances, for she had few friends. She’d make polite...

The DePression Hotel
Letitia Smit - 2008-05-16
Welcome! Welcome! Welcome to the incomparable, world-renowned, DePression Hotel! Serving the mentally ill for centuries, we are frequently booked. You were fortunate to get a room!Oh yes, yes, fortunate! For we offer more, much more, than our sister chain, Down-and-Out Inn. Yes, you must have earned your room here through frequent-traveller points – a VIP perk, if you will. You are in very good company at our establishment, I assure you, for everyone has earned their right to be here through...

Last Day in Parliament
Lucas Ledwaba - 2008-05-16
Our parliament in Ga-Mashashane village was perhaps the only one of its kind in the world. Although it was nothing like the stately building in Cape Town, the mother city, it was quite grand too. It was also the only parliament in the world where the members didn't have to be voted in or sworn in. You only had to be a child of the Ga-Mashashane soil to qualify as a member.Parliament was quite a punishing walk from my home in Mohlonong, north of the royal village of Ga-Mashashane. From my house a...

The Jack Russell event
Steven Marston - 2008-05-11
Louise, do you remember the trip we took to Knysna over that long weekend? It wasn’t a real long weekend, that one we assembled out of sick notes and phone calls. It was early summer, the season hadn’t settled yet, and they had just reopened the Keimans Pass after the floods. That woman dressed like a game ranger asked us at the border if we had any pork and we lied to her because we had plans to skottel a breakfast the next morning, and you froze when she asked to check our boot. We...

Angels over Africa
Rose Richards - 2008-04-30
Flying over southern Africa that winter, the angels looked like lions or lesser flamingoes. So much so that one had to look closely to discern their angelic nature. The lion angels were the easiest to spot when they were in the sky. When they were on the ground, no one waited around long enough to see if they were angels or not. The flamingoes were less easy to distinguish, although people later argued that sighting them so far inland had been a dead giveaway.The first recorded sighting was at Cape...

Sin Nombre
Wayne Shannon - 2008-04-22
Sometimes the name they give you is wrong. Sometimes it comes out wrong because of the language, or because they do not like or cannot remember your name and so they change it, or they spell it wrong and then it goes on the record that way and they call you that wrong name forever. It happens that way here, sometimes. That is how I came to be called Afra. I am not Afra. That is not my real name. My real name is Klara Hitler – at least, I believe it is. They brought me directly here from the...

"Pain is sometimes preferable to treatment"
Hilda Smits - 2008-04-16
Inspired by W Sutcliffe’s hilarious book Are you experienced? as well as … well, IndiaI“Where you from?”I looked up from my Lonely Planet and sighed inwardly. Not again!“England,” I replied sharply.The man hovered over me for a while, seemingly contemplating the vacant seat nearest to me, and then wisely decided against such a daring act.“What your name?”I said nothing. “Excuse me, Madame, what your name?” the voice insisted.“Andrea,"...

The doppelgnger girl
Steven Marston - 2008-04-15
The bar smells of garlic and cherry tobacco, and it’s quite full for a Saturday night. The drummer is snapping the snare with the side of the drumstick. He isn’t good yet, but he’s getting there. Up on stage with him are two guitarists and an intense woman singing into the microphone. She’s tall and loud and playing coy, avoiding eye contact with the crowd. The singer is pretty and she’s got a rugby-playing boyfriend to convince herself of that fact. That boyfriend is...

The forgotten people
Lucas Ledwaba - 2008-04-09
ALEXANDRA, 8th Avenue. Nothing at all had changed. Nothing seemed to change here – the crumbling houses and shacks, built so closely together the walls couldn’t stop a man hearing another breathe on the other side; the half-naked children with runny noses, shouting, yelling, running, singing, swearing, jumping over trickles of dirty water washing down the narrow streets. Alexandra, Alexandra … Day, night, morning, evening, the streets crawl with waves and waves of men and women,...

Without colour
Karina Magdalena Szczurek - 2008-03-26
The photographs are black-and-white. I have no memory of putting this particular album into the boxes which I had shipped here when, a while ago, I moved to Bloemfontein to become Mrs Hlompho Khaketla. The images suddenly jump at us as I open the album believing that it contains the family photographs I want to show Mamello. We are both equally surprised. "And this?" She puts her coffee cup back on the table and points at the open page in front of her, almost accusingly, unsure whether...

Sarah Frost - 2008-03-13
For long nowIt has been blockedThe tunnel filled with ragged plastic bags, dead branchesWashed down from the townships.The water tainted with faeces.Stagnant as oil sludgeIt pools,Dirty,Like unresolved pain.The concrete hollow sticks out over the beachInto the shallows of the seaA barrel of a gunFacing down the wavesthat lap at its mouth.Years agoThe girl walked there with her motherSpeaking of who she might become.Now she walks there aloneWondering, in the shadowsHow she will ever know, let alone...

A B C of Love
Hanni van den Heever - 2008-03-10

Saaleha Bhamjee - 2008-02-25
The air had congealed in these last hours. It hung dense, cloistering. She sat at the window, her eyes sightlessly trained on the steady stream of cars that trickled by. The telephone rang. Shrill, insistent, shattering the air, sending the shards flying around her head. The ringing penetrated her skull. She walked gingerly towards the motionless banshee. Stretched her hand towards it, recoiled. In a single swoop, she gathered the receiver, pressed it lightly to her ear.“Hello?”“Assalaamu...

The tablespoon cuddle
Wayne Shannon - 2008-02-18
Friday evening, old Fanie Oosthuizen sits on the stoep. He is feeling proud; the way a father feels proud when his son comes good. Blue-grey rum and maple clouds climb from his pipe and he sips mampoer from his mug. A breeze from the west has been blowing all day. Now it is still and it’s going to be a great weekend. Hendrik is coming home tonight, and for the first time in three years at university he will be bringing someone home with him. From where Old Fanie sits, through the dust hanging...

In conversation with a mirror
Letitia Smit - 2007-08-22
The image in the mirror shot back into my eyes. Was that really me? Is this really what I looked like? For the first time, perhaps in years, I could vaguely see what I actually looked like. A hint of rationality leached into my mind. “You’re thin!” I thought to myself. “Inhumanly thin. You’re a skeleton simply wrapped in skin!” My eyes grew wide, amazed I had not seen myself like this before. This realisation did not last. “What are you saying?”...

A defining moment
Saaleha Bhamjee - 2007-06-05
The defining moments in our lives are not as many as we would like to believe they are. I learnt this the other day. It was the kind of day when I felt that the bottom of my world had dropped out and that I was falling into a darkness, a vacuum that smothered my voice, because my insides were screaming, you see, and I could not hear them. It was 10:30. And it was a freezing night. Nasty things always happen on freezing nights. I sat huddled close to the heater, waiting for my husband and son to...

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