March 2026
Linda D. Addison, Member of the Diverse Works Inclusion Committee.
The sole purpose of The Seers’ Table monthly column is to introduce HWA members to the work of underrepresented demographic writers and editors whose work might not otherwise be viewed, using the broadest definition of the word underrepresented to include, but not limited to, gender, gender identity, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, disabled and neurodiverse.
You can see any of The Seers’ Table posts since inception (March 2016) by going to the HWA main page and selecting the menu item “HWA Publications / Blogs / Seers’ Table”.
Geneve Flynn recommends:
Graham Akhurst is a Kokomini writer who grew up in Meanjin (Brisbane, Australia).
He is a Senior Lecturer of Australian Indigenous Studies and Creative Writing and Director of Indigenous Studies at UTS. He was a finalist for the 2024 NAIDOC awards in the category of Creative of the Year. Graham began his writing journey in a hospital bed in 2011.
He read and started journaling between treatments for Endemic Burkett Lymphoma. As a Fulbright Scholar, Graham took his love for writing to New York City, where he studied for an MFA in Fiction at Hunter College.
He is a board member for the Sydney Review of Books and Varuna. He lives with his wife on Gadigal Country in Sydney and enjoys walking Centennial Park with a good audiobook.
His debut YA novel, Borderland, was published with UWAP in October 2023 and received the following accolades:
- 2025 Finalist NSW Literary Awards. Glenda Adams Award for New Writing for Borderland
- 2024 Finalist for Work of State Significance QLD Literary Awards for Borderland
- 2024 Finalist for Young Adult Book of the Year QLD Literary Awards for Borderland
- 2024 Finalist for Best Horror Book of the Year Aurealis Awards for Borderland
- 2024 Finalist Best YA Book of the Year Aurealis Awards for Borderland
- 2024 Finalist Adaptable Program Queensland Writers Centre
- 2024 Children’s Book Council of Australia ‘Notable’ book for Borderland
Review for Borderland:
“A hell of a debut novel from a writer at once daring, insightful and heartfelt.”—Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
Recommended Reading: Borderland
Excerpt from Borderland:
Rustling noises stirred me awake. I was dazed and in darkness. I tried stretching my arms to find my torch, but they were trapped inside the sleeping bag.
I could hear heavy, wet breathing outside. Laying still and stiff as a board I listened for movement. Something was right outside, sniffing at the fabric, smelling me out. My eyes adjusted, and a large silhouette formed in the half-dark. The tent was coming in on me and a wet patch emerged where the breathing was concentrated.
It was the beast! In that half-asleep half-awake state, I worked off pure instinct. I flung my arms out of the sleeping bag and found my torch, then bolted for the entrance. The beast was startled, but came in on the tent biting at it. I struggled with the zip. I finally got out and tensed for the fight of my life. I shone the light but couldn’t place the thing. I heard movement and the rustle of bushes, and, in that moment, as my adrenaline peaked, I remembered Mum’s story and the name Wudun.
Wudun the protector. Wudun who would help in times of danger. I said the name soft at first, then louder as I turned my body around in circles, the torchlight dancing around me.
‘Wudun, Wudun, Wudun.’ I repeated the word like a mantra, but no protector emerged. My heart thumped and I was overcome by the thought of uncovering the pale skin, sharp teeth, and long red tongue of the beast.
I flashed the torch on the riverbank a couple of metres away, and what appeared, startled by the light, was a different type of monster: a huge black wild pig, with long tusks, a big wet nose, and beady eyes shamed by the light. I stamped my foot and said ‘Ahh, get,’ and it ran off scared, along the riverbank and away from camp.
Follow Graham Akhurst: https://www.grahamakhurst.com/
Author Photo: Giovana Schluter Nunes
Kelsea Yu is a Taiwanese Chinese American writer who is eternally enthusiastic about sharks and appreciates a good ghost story. Dozens of her short stories and essays appear in Clarkesworld, Apex, Nightmare, PseudoPod, Fantasy, and elsewhere. Her first novella, Bound Feet, was a Shirley Jackson Award finalist, and her second novella, Demon Song, was published by Titan Books on September 30, 2025.
Kelsea’s debut novel, It’s Only a Game, won the 2025 Oregon Spirit Book Award for YA Lit and a 2025 Children’s Book Council Favorites Award. Her next novel, Stormraven, will be published by Gallery and Titan Books in 2026. Kelsea lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, children, and a pile of art supplies.
In Demon Song a young woman discovers the terrifying secrets lurking within the walls of a Beijing opera house, in this addictive Gothic horror novella inspired by Chinese mythology about the price of fame, and the bonds between mothers and daughters. Perfect for fans of Shirley Jackson and Cassandra Khaw.
Recommended Reading: Demon Song (Titan Books, 2025)
Excerpt from “Demon Song”
I woke in a dark chamber deep within the body of the Opera House—though how I knew this, I could not say. The air was cold and stale as I sat up, shivering. One by one, candles lit up around me, and in the flickering, uneven light, I saw myself— another me, several feet away startle. She touched her face as I felt my own fingertips brush my cheek. I turned my head, and there was another me, and another, an endless sea of us stretching into the darkness, all turned in precisely the same way. We stared at each other; parted our lips to speak.
Our mouths were empty cavities; nothing but black, gaping maws.
As we screamed, our jaws opened wider, mouths stretching and expanding. A wild, insatiable hunger tore through me, a sudden ache that felt like burst stitches. And then she was
above me. A woman in brilliant white robes, unblinking as she gazed into my eyes. She placed a finger over my lips, and my scream stopped abruptly. I could still feel it pressing against my throat, desperate to be released, but I was powerless to move. Smiling, she slid her fingers into my mouth until her entire hand lay inside; until her probing fingers were in my throat, pulling something out as I gagged and choked.
She yanked, hard and abrupt. Blood and sick ran down her arm, staining her billowing white sleeves as she lifted her hand, palm up to reveal the pale pink muscle, still wriggling, forming soundless, impossible words.
Follow Kelsea: Instagram @anovelescape; or visit her at https://www.kelseayu.com/
Author Photo: Katy Weaver Photography |
