Devil woman

The rooftop was bathed in a golden glow. As I looked around, trying to find where it was coming from, I saw that the film crew were conspicuous by their absence. Unless that was them standing against the low walls around the rooftop, wearing dark red robes.

I turned my attention to the space directly in front of me, and the rest of the scenery faded into insignificance. It was her. From the farm. From Wits. The one I’d been looking for my whole life. No, hang on, that wasn’t right. It had only been a few days. Focus, dammit. I’d found her, and my life would never be the same again. Wait. No. Get it right. I’d found her, and now I could collect the rest of my destiny. Of my money. Damn. The art of stringing sentences together seemed to have deserted me.

But what did that matter? There she was. I finally saw where the golden glow originated. It was her. She was the source of the light, emanating directly from her golden skin. With no clothing to get in its way.

My knees felt weak. The bottle slipped from my fingers and bounced on the concrete. It didn’t matter. I didn’t need it.

Extract from Burning Roses, a decadent tale of sex, drugs, rock n roll & magick. Available on Amazon. Also available in paperback.

And on Amazon.co.uk.

Or you can find them at Curiosity, the new retail shop open from Wednesday to Sunday, 11am till late, at the Railways Cafe in Pretoria. Join me there on the 12th of October for The Vintage Festival, featuring Martin Rocka, South Africa’s King of Psychobilly (who happens to make a guest appearance in Burning Roses). Get a copy signed by me and (if we can track him down) Martin.

Also available from the East Rand Children’s Haven, Merchandise Charity Shop, 5 Muriel Brand Street, Weltevreden 118-IR, Brakpan (alongside the soon-to-be-famous Richard Edwards’ The Puzzle Train).

Till next time.

Cheers.