Short summer fiction: Camelopard by Andrew Roff

For its 74th edition Griffith Review launched an emerging voices competition for new fiction and non-fiction. From hundreds of entries, this is one of the four finalists

MOST OF THE time, I know I’m human. There’s a buttoned flap to fuss with when it’s time to eat, and another for toilet. Every enhancement comes at a price.

It’s not good teamwork to complain, not when things are going so well. Seven games in and the men are winning more often than not. And our girls – females – women – are top of the table. Boss tells me the crowds are down a little on last year, but that’s hard to notice at game time, as I’m cantering along the boundary, sidestepping photographers and guards, rearing and paddling my forelegs.

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