Hari Navarro has, for many years now, been locked in his neighbour’s cellar. He survives due to an intravenous feed of puréed extreme horror and Absinthe-infused sticky-spiced unicorn wings.

His anguished cries for help can be found via 365 Tomorrows, Breachzine, AntipodeanSF, Horror Without Borders, Black Hare Press and HellBound books.

Hari was the Winner of the Australasian Horror Writers’ Association [AHWA] Flash Fiction Award 2018 and has also succeeded in being a New Zealander who now lives in Northern Italy with no cats.

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Penetralia by Hari Navarro

“Do you know what happens when you stare into television static?”
“I don’t have a television.”

Zero Hour 2113 – Launches 23rd January 2021

London, 2113.Racked by riots and ruled by corporations, London has grown to house over twenty-million people. Its limits stretch across the south-west of England.Pollution chokes the skyline, hiding the stratoscrapers of The Mile, London’s exclusive centre, from sight; though its gaudy neon signs penetrate the smog. Corporations rule after the collapse of the mid-2000s. The NHS, under strain from underfunding and the barrage of pandemics, chemical attacks and terrorism, found itself sold off, piece by piece, to the highest bidder. The augmentation companies moved in; buying what they liked. The National Health Bank rose, supplemented by other privatised care centres.

Poor Charlie

by Hari Navarro   I was sixteen the first time. Never sensed anything like it. Such wonder. Worlds away from the fantastical lies that curled my toes and suppressed my exasperated sighs as the father spoke down from his pulpit. Poor Charlie, loved since he was but a ball of foundling fur. His rot grabbed […]

Stormy Little Dream Stealer

by Hari Navarro   I felt the impact as she landed in our bed. That sickly hollow plunge common to nightmares in which we fall but never land. It was sometime after the birth of our third child, I think. And she did arrive in our bed, and she did lay waste to our passion […]

Hard Wood

by Hari Navarro   The tip of his stake pushes the cloth from my chest and settles against my hardening nipple. I prick my tongue on the rapier prongs in my mouth, and I open the moist stick of my lips and offer he, who would be my killer, a glimpse of their reddening shine. […]

Hari Navarro

Hari Navarro has, for many years now, been locked in his neighbour’s cellar. He survives due to an intravenous feed of puréed extreme horror and Absinthe-infused sticky-spiced unicorn wings.