Set in Australia, Mia’s Magic Wand takes us on a fugitive journey from Sydney Harbour to the Kimberley. A mother, a father and a monk all want to fix what’s f****d with the world. Each loves to gamble. The mother gambles with politicians, the father gambles with weapons and the monk gambles with God. 

The plot revolves around an archive of blackmailing videos—The Magic Wand—owned by billionaire philanthropist, Tate Wolsey. Tate can have anything he wants, except for Mia, so he assaults her. But he underestimates his wife, Claudia. Outraged, she steals the Magic Wand and gives it to Mia. All hell breaks loose and Mia ends up with the last surviving copy of the Wand.

A federal election looms, news of the theft of the Wand leaks out and prominent politicians begin to worry. One of them, the Federal Police Minister, makes a deal with a jailed murderer, Dog, who holds a grudge against Mia. In quick succession, Dog is released from jail, Tate’s wife is murdered and Mia’s daughter is kidnapped.

Late one night, Mia arranges to hand over the Wand in exchange for her daughter but the deal goes sideways and a gun battle erupts. In the chaos, Mia and Red rescue their daughter and flee to the mountains—still in possession of the Wand.

Trekking to a highway, they hitch a ride with a truck driver and travel to the Kimberley. But Dog is still at large and a bloody struggle plays out. 


This is a multiple point of view story: each of the three characters taking their chapter by turn.

Mia's Magic Wand

Buddha’s thundering rig trails a cloud of orange as it pushes its way towards a low sun. Inside the cabin, Mia holds the rear-view mirror in one hand and an eye-shadow brush in the other, applying heavy layers: her shadowed eyes, spray-tanned face and shaved head reminding her of experiments she’d tried as a teenager. 


 ‘Lookin’ like a bunny to me,’ Buddha says, staring over his sunglasses at her and laughing. ‘I’ll have some jealous mates out there.’ 


 ‘You think I’ve overdone it?’ she asks, re-brushing a smudged corner. 


 ‘Maybe that top you got on. What do ya call it?’ 


 ‘Shit!’ Buddha yells, pulling on the steering: his whole attention on the road where a washout has cut halfway across. Holding the wheel with both hands, he guides the truck around it. ‘That “tank” thing,’ he continues, easing the truck back into the centre of the road, ‘is a bit too city, I reckon.’ 


Chapter 13 — Mia