Everything else is just clouds

Type
Fiction
Category
Fiction

The old man would give you a flogging for a lot less than dipping into his stash. Not that I’d ever wanted to touch dope. I’d sworn myself enemy to all things that made him who he was, dope being a great contributor. But down behind the shed, where the long grass scratched my shins, I clipped off a decent chunk. The buds felt like furry balls of cotton. I zip-locked it and stashed it down my jocks.

Type
Fiction
Category
Fiction

A murmur of resistance

My lipstick is sticky from the heat. It slips over my lips too quickly, forcing me to scrape the edge of my mouth with a fingernail to remove a smudge. My sister Anička frowns when she sees me. ‘What are you planning to do? Flirt with them until they agree to leave our country?’

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Type
Fiction
Category
Fiction

Alexandria

I was asked why I volunteer at the library and I couldn’t think of a pithy answer. Books don’t get violent when I say the wrong thing but I couldn’t say that. Books don’t scowl at me while I talk. I’ve mulled over the question a lot and I think I can explain it best by telling you about a certain time in my life.

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Type
Fiction
Category
Fiction

Interview with a granite boulder

A bit about me: I was created from cooling magma during the Late Devonian period. Part of the Harcourt granodiorite formation in Victoria, I spent my early life underground before emerging into the air as the soil above me weathered away. Things are more interesting above ground, although I’m slowly shrinking as sun, wind and rain wear me down. Eventually, I will be little more than soil myself.

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Type
Poetry
Category
Poetry

Cockatoo

We stop the Subaru in a town west of the Dividing Range where a café door is camouflaged by pink plastic streamers that don’t keep the flies out and the taciturn shopkeeper is wearing a Keith Urban t-shirt (Light the Fuse Tour 2013).

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