writer, reader, editor, dreamer
The cops glide by, at a leisurely pace, on their Segway’s. Slow and steady, helmeted, back straight, as straight as their faces. Three kids, Lebanese, Caucasian, Islander. Backs against the wall. Two of the three sit obediently heads bowed. The other… not so much. “Sit down now,” says one of the coppers. They’ve parked their …
Continue reading "Flash Fiction: Fairy Lights and Black Holes"
Michelle found our flat on Realestate.com after Schoolies and we moved in on the 15th of January. On the 18th she bought the mirror from the Vinnies down the road. It was a big and gaudy thing that she kept in our living room. Old-fashioned, oak frame, full length and a little ripple in …
The mattress was expensive and soft, much more comfortable that her own. That alone would have been enough to make her stay. The long, beautiful sleep it offered. But they never did much sleeping. The pillows were equal in quality. When he wasn’t back from work she used one for her head and hugged the …
Sally Turner’s mum had a boob job before she was born. She did it to improve her chances of getting television work. It worked. She got a job as a tabloid reporter for three years. Sally feels sorry for her mum now, living back then when it was all about looks and people mutilated their …
I wrap my hands around each side of my chair and shift it forward. The movement swings my pendant necklace forward into the froth of my coffee, and back against my top. Too early for the café to be fully set up, there are no serviettes on the tables. I remember a half used tissue …
Sleeping in till embarrassingly late, Steph and I opted for skipping breakfast and going out for brunch instead. Rolling into Humber at just before 11:30 we could have still picked from the breakfast menu (Steph had been craving the mushrooms) however we passed it over for the lunch version. I got the pulled pork roll. …
Someone knocked on my front door. From my bedroom window I could see a dash of blonde hair but nothing else. Another knock. And again. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. When I opened the door she pushed inside, grabbed me by the throat and shoved me against the exposed brick wall. She loomed over me. …
My mother calls me to the kitchen, “Can you help with the dogs?” “Yes!” I jump off my bed (where I spend most of my time these days). She’s putting the final touches on their dinner, a cup each of dry bickies. I pick up two bowls, the smallest and the second smallest for Angus …
