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  • Novel: With The Safety Off
    • Extract from the novel by Graeme Feltham co-published with Dyehard Press
  • Poems: Crows in the Coral Tree
    • A collection of poems in English by Heidi Papadopoulos
  • Fiksie: Te Veel Sorge
    • Uittreksels uit Hans Pienaar se 'verhaal in stukke'
  • Roman: My China
    • Hans Pienaar se satire oor die derde mag, die ANC en China
  • Fotogedigte: Uithoeke/Outcorners
    • Hans Pienaar se unieke versameling fotogedigte, gebaseer op uitstallings oor etlike jare. Beperkte oplaag.
  • Short stories: Gary Cummiskey
    • Extract: Gone Gone
  • Bundel: Alchemie van die Meeue
    • Heidi Papadopoulos se eerste is 'n leeservaring soos min. Bestel by pappie@iburst.co.za
  • Novel: The Virgin in the Treehouse
    • Extract from Willemien de Villiers's second novel following on her best-selling Kitchen Casualties
  • Novel: My China
    • Hans Pienaar's satire on the third force, the ANC and China
  • Blog: Hans Pienaar
    • Notes, thoughts and think pieces by Hans Pienaar
  • Roman / bundel/ traktaat / tesis: Chaos, of Op Soek na Superman
    • Uittreksels uit Hans Pienaar se ondefinieerbare roman/bundel kortverhale / traktaat /pamflet/wetenskaplike tesis.
  • Bundel: Notas uit die empire
    • Uittreksels uit die tweede bundel gedigte deur Hans Pienaar
  • Drama: The Good Candidate
    • The Good Candidate premiered on January 30 2014 at Artscape in Cape Town.
  • Koekies en tee: Die Afrikaanse pers en apartheid
    • Uittreksel uit Chaos, of op soek na Superman, om meer lig te werp op Nasionale Pers se rekord as hervormer.

The Virgin in the Treehouse: extract

Prologue

 With the tip of her tongue, Zoë licks Roy’s warm breath from her lips as he stands in front of her, untangling dark strands of hair from the knot of purple cloth at the back of her head. She turns her head to follow his shadowy shape as he moves over to Constant, fastening a similar strip of cloth across his eyes. Then waits, with head bent and eyes closed, as he ties his own. Resuming his position between Zoë and Constant, their naked bodies form a triangle against the painted cloudscape of the room.

‘Follow the sound of my breathing,’ Roy says, reaching for Zoë’s hand and pressing his square, dry palm against her moist one as their fingers entwine.

Earlier, Roy had turned her narrow palm to the splash of moonlight on the windowsill to study its intricately patterned surface; a bustling intersection of heart, head and life. ‘There’s hope, after all,’ he had concluded before resting an ear against the strong beat of her heart. Smiling, he had lifted his head away and tucked a stray dark cinnamon curl ­– which had briefly marked the slope of her small breasts – behind his ear. Zoë had offered a small smile in return, and placed the scrutinised palm against the rosy flush on her skin.

Zoë’s right hand reaches for Constant’s left one as she inhales deeply; a shuddery intake of oxygen that lifts and expands her ribcage. Her thoughts slowly disappear into the ebb and flow of their slow, synchronised breathing. As the tempo increases a space opens inside her ­– walled, empty; a darker imprint of the blue room in which they are standing. Gradually, the walls reveal their true nature: a massive rock face rising up next to the colourless eye of a broad river.

Roy and Constant start to hum with each exhalation, and this low sound seems to vibrate against the rock’s wet surface, turning its forbidding façade into the taut skin of a drum. The sound emanates from deep within their bodies, amplified by ribcage and visceral matter.

After a while the rhythm of Roy’s breathing changes again, and Zoë grips Constant’s hand as her legs buckle, barely aware of the large, transparent ball rushing towards her on the surface of the unblinking eye.

Letting go of both Roy’s and Constant’s hands, she slides into this warm capsule, surrendering. 

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