Games Over

Games Over

by Gail Luck


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Noveletta imprint


Who was I kidding?
I flung myself onto the bed and before I knew it I was chasing zeds. But wait up! I could hear the heavy tread of many feet in the hall. The door to my room slammed back against the wall and my eyes jerked open. What seemed like hundreds of hooves clattered over the boards as I sat up, stunned by the noise, while the heat of the combined breath of a herd of wild zebra made the room into a sweatbox.
Cool! This was the coolest! Uncle Merv's pets were zebra. I got up and headed for the shed out the back. I could hear their clattering hooves behind me. I'd need to feed them and get them some water.
This was going to be a nightmare, I suddenly thought. How was I going to keep them safe? How could I keep them healthy? And who would watch them while I was at school?

I panicked, something was licking me.
I woke . . . and smiled as a small dog jumped onto the bed and licked me - so you must be Dotti?

Ohhh! My head. I try to sit up, to put my head in my hands. No go.
And my bed seems to be rocking up and back, up and back, making me feel dizzy and sick.
Where am I? And how did I get here? My head starts throbbing and my eyes ache, so I close them against the bright sunlight creeping through a crack in the timber wall.
I hear the sound of bare feet slapping on the timber floor. Then a shadow stands over me. It's a woman, with an oversized T-shirt over her rolled up pants. She smiles at me, showing big gaps in her teeth.
'You wan' blekfas?' she asks.

When the knock comes at the door, it's a kind of relief. Mr. Cool opens the door and in walks trouble. A short, weedy Asian guy, about fifty, if I'm any good at judging age. He glances round the room, his eyes never resting on anything for more than a second. Taking it all in. He looks so frail that a puff of wind would blow him away. Yet he carries with him the kind of power that leaves a chill in the air, even after he's passed by.
His face is heavily lined from nose to mouth with cold eyes couched in the deep folds of his lids. His skin is yellow, like he never goes outside.
I've stopped trying to get my bearings and I'm staring. Staring at the Face of Fear.

Just then, dad came rushing out of his office. 'Jane, I need some help in the embalming room. Give me a hand.'
You're probably wondering what my dad is talking about. Why on earth would an ordinary family have an embalming room? Is my dad some kind of sicko freak? Or does he practice ancient rituals on family members?
Well, you'd be wrong on both counts.
My dad runs the family funeral business. Our family has been dealing in death for the past fifty years. We live above the funeral parlour. It's a great place to live, but none of my mates want to hang out at my place. They seem spooked by the idea of hanging out in my bedroom when there are dead bodies in the fridge on the floor below.
No ... not in our family fridge, of course. The bodies are in the refrigerated cabinet next to the autopsy lab, each one in separate drawers. They're refrigerated to help preserve them until they can be embalmed for viewing by the family of the person who has passed away. Passed away' is the polite way of saying died'...
A unique and humourous look at death and afterwards!

...for such a tiny baby, Fiasili leaves a huge legacy.
Sisters Kate and Cassie get more than they bargained for when their grandmere's birthday gift of a trip to Samoa turns into a nightmare.
While Kate has eyes only for Tavita, Cassie finds herself getting deeper and deeper into a mystery involving Atelina, whose fear of her surly cousin, Rata, seems out of all proportion. Add political intrigue, the kidnapping of tiny Fiasili, a creepy old uncle and the plot thickens...

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781717117861
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date: 06/01/2018
Series: FRiendship Series , #3
Pages: 160
Product dimensions: 5.25(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.34(d)

About the Author

The Australian author lives in Wollongong, a multicultural, regional city south of Sydney. Married with four adult children, she has taught English to speakers of other languages for more than twenty years. The adult students she teaches have become an inspiration for many of the stories she has written over the years, stories of life told to her by migrants and refugees. Her aim in retelling these stories is to provide an awareness of the similarities and differences between people around the world.

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