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Tag Archives: Fiction
Forms
Each holding a corner of the rug, they carry him, sleeping, ashore. Finally, he is home. On the dock, as the men loaded the ship to the sound of thunder, he looked to his island, invisible on the horizon, and clenched a thick fist. The smell of his land, carried on the wind, inspired memories [...]
Bedroom
Night Bars of light on the colourless wall. A green glow frames the blinds. Dawn The light pool-water blue. Morning Metallic tang of day. Unremitting, harsh. Afternoon The pulsing, breathless sun.
Everest and the Mariana Trench
This was me yesterday. That was in response to @ytsumner who tweeted that a short story she’d had rejected four times had gotten published. Though I wrote it with sincerity, three hours later I was questioning my skills as a writer, my creative abilities and my worth as a human. Rejection is a sobering experience. [...]
Untitled IX
He has a leg up, resting it on a white-lidded esky. Both wear stiff cargo pants and dusty boots, a halo of boot prints around where they sit. The one in a yellow vest flicks through a men’s magazine he rests on his thigh. The one on his right wears an orange vest over a [...]
Notebook 14.5
Characterising the sea as the opposite of what it is to be human, as inhuman, as beyond control, beyond reason, and therefore wild. As immovably powerful – its logic and reason above our comprehension. Immortal. Forces that refused to be tamed were respected. – She told jokes, knowing the others would oblige with a laugh [...]
Winter
Shoes black, gleaming like cockroaches. Bald spot. White hands are produced from pockets. Ladder in her pantyhose. Rosy cheeks. Collars up. Dark colours for a dark mood. Those from the south say, Oh, look at them. Over reacting. The way they whip out their scarves. The way they huddle in that patch of sun. Arms [...]
Car park
A ute rattles in. The stones crackle under the tyres and culminate in the pop of a glass bottle. The diesel-engined clatter is punctuated with a puff of brown haze. Outlaw is tagged in different jagged sizes on the far wall, juxtaposed with the writing of a practiced swollen cursive. Next to the wall of [...]
725
The kind of person who ate fried food from grease-stained paper bags at breakfast time. He spoke using his hands, pointing with a thick, hard finger, always to something over there. Face polished by sun rays. Double take of recognition. Holds his sunglasses up to the light then folds over a cuff, using it to [...]
Almost worn through
Red Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars. Black Chuck Taylors, a tear on the inside. Mauve slip-ons exposing the top of the foot. Dirty Dunlop Volleys. Cabbage-white thick-soled runners. Black lace-ups with a white squiggle for a brand. Matt-black leather work shoes. Blue and white Nike Airmax TNs. Lipstick-red stilettos, a small opening at the toe. Laceless [...]
Un(title)