Clarity through the base of a glass

I saw it, perfectly resonant within utmost clarity. Criss-crossed lines of overpolish glow luminescent behind the last draught of ale as my tipped glass catches the sun, refelcting in golden radiance.A late-Autumn wind ambles through the sky and appears to almost steal the daylight from the air as it passes, following the sun’s dip below … Continue reading Clarity through the base of a glass →

Six flights of stairs and a turn of a key

Six flights of stairs and a turn of a key. A hinge screams as the door is pushed open–whoops, I wanted to be quiet, too late now. Creeping inside I close the door and kick off my shoes, the facade of silence is removed but I continue moving lightly for nothing but my own sense … Continue reading Six flights of stairs and a turn of a key →

Waiting room

A room.I often find myself in things like rooms. Rat-run mazes of brick and mortar that deaden traffic’s hiss and seem to grip to the earth like a terrified fist, raging against time, raging against the eventual rubble that it will one day become. A concrete burden of brutalist architecture, so unapologetically hewn from simplicity that … Continue reading Waiting room →

To Manufacture a Planet

Simple really, the needs of existence grow more complex as time progresses onward.Think of a newborn baby, a human that is incapable of surviving without assistance. But, unlike their adult contemporaries, this child’s needs can be met moderately easily. We age, we learn, and within reason we gain reason.This is where things begin to get … Continue reading To Manufacture a Planet →

Ghost

Feeling a distant pang of confusion nestle itself alongside the light breeze that was wafting through his chest, Blake, a young farmhand, held aloft the rather loudly humming shortsword much in the same way a person might wield a wet rat.It was a blade of beautiful simplicity, well balanced and clearly made by master’s hand. … Continue reading Ghost →

My House That Whistles Merry as a Teapot

I must say, and I really must for this is my own internal monologue, that the afternoons were certainly beginning to get cold.Not cold as in quiet days of shivered toes jumping under the doona with a good crime novel, but the kind of cold that snaps grass into frost and adds a weight to … Continue reading My House That Whistles Merry as a Teapot →

They call me Cloth!

Crisscrossed and tumbling over itself, the mostly sentient bulk lumbered its way through a wall and into the sewer canal. A mass of ambulatory garbage, bulging with the assorted detritus of much that was unmentionable, tracked a smear of someting gastly behind its form as it slid across the brickwork.One single thought drifted through the … Continue reading They call me Cloth! →

Up Round at the Tavern by the River’s Edge

A neat row of bottles stood proudly on their display shelf behind the bar of Dorrily river tavern.Locals who gossip in forever rounding circles of weather and fading memories, invariably wander towards the realm of drunken speculation as the night grows tired. What was the actual difference between a king’s pint and a double half-pint, … Continue reading Up Round at the Tavern by the River’s Edge →

The migatory habbits of the housebound pot plant

Left corner just by the fridge: the aspidistra sits quietly, an undying phoenix of pot plant regalia and evergreen staple of apartment decor; this plant, though never truly blending into its position, has been shuffled across the many diffrent corners, of hundres of apartments, more frequently than a game of chess played with only one … Continue reading The migatory habbits of the housebound pot plant →

The Last of the Mornings

Station 60. The road reaches [REDACTED]...…‘Well the raido’s dead.’ Knocking the input microphone against its transmitter, Mason frowned as his pugilistic methods of fault finding had failed to make good whatever problem was bricking the station radio. ‘What do you reckon R922 ERR is?’ he said, placing the microphone down and giving the isolation transformer … Continue reading The Last of the Mornings →