Acheron — Chapter 1

Sky Pool | author image

Blue eyes. Brown eyes. Green or hazel. Why do we even notice? It’s just pigmentation of the iris. It says nothing about the person behind the eyes. Yet it might be the difference between never looking at them, not properly, and never being able to look away.

It’s unfair. My eyes are sort of muddy. Even my wife of thirty-five years would be pushed to say what colour they are. I was…



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Steve Fendt

Steve Fendt Short stories, serial fiction, memoirs of a possibly quasi-true nature. Aussie tales of banjos, beaches and the bush.