Nights of kinship, so underscored by joyous laughter, will forever become inextricably tied to the memories of a fading youth; between these misspent nights of carousing and falling off of chairs, lies absence, a darkening void of long forgotten--or otherwise equally repressed--memory. Scattered fragments of horrific recall that wisp past the vision in hazed blur … Continue reading Aya and Carrick Part 5: Back on the Wagon
Tag: fiction
How do you like your tea
‘How do you like your tea?’A voice to my right wrung hollow within the otherwise solemn emptiness of the museum corridor.Neutral white walls washed into a wooden floor of dull grey, interlinking itself within jigsaw pattern and shifting focus to the abstract of colour and artistry adorning the art wing’s vaulted walls. Each neat rectangle … Continue reading How do you like your tea
To Fix a Fence
Separated by a fence line of horizon. Two neighbouring towns, devoid of landmark and postcode, both rested upon the edge of a dirt road so uninteresting that even most of the potholes hadn’t bothered to show up. Between these towns was a field of grass that had taken featurelessness to have been competitive; this field, … Continue reading To Fix a Fence
The Killing of a Fox
Solemn eyes watched on as the Judge stepped into the churchyard and drew the iron gate closed behind him, eliciting a mournful howl as the ancient gate grated against the frost of this quiet winter morning.The sky was muted in greyness as though a blanket had been thrown across the entire heavens, a greyness that … Continue reading The Killing of a Fox
Balendup lawn dredging services
Yep, I remember back when this was all fields. Well, it’s still a field now but a few years back it was more field-ish, you know what I mean? The grass was greener back then, it had a certain windsweptedness about it that a better word would probably sum up really well. I don’t know, I’m … Continue reading Balendup lawn dredging services
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
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
Sunday Short Stories 