First published in The Grieve Anthology, Volume 7 (2019) Jane stood looking down the length of the hospital bed at the old, dying man, her grandfather. ‘Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.’ The mantra echoed in her head. At the same time she wanted to ask ‘How could you? And did you, in the end, believe her?’ But she said…
Category: Creative
Beach Storm
From the boardwalk looking across the estuary to the surf beach she could see the dark clouds gathering. It would rain soon but at that moment the effect of the sun at her back illuminating the clouds on the water’s reflection was mesmerising. She took a breath, tasting the metallic flavour which comes before the rain. It would be wise…
Molly and Lemmy
Why does Molly lick the doona? He asked me as we sat on the couch. Who’s Molly, I thought. But it wasn’t the right time to ask. He was brandishing a gun and I’d only just handed over the suitcase with the money inside. I needed to stay sharp to get out of there alive. I looked up at him. …
Breaking up
Over the next couple of days Amber got to thinking that it was actually foolish of her to have left the flat. She planned to take up a job interstate in a few months and she started to think that it was not fair that she should have to move twice within a short period. It’s the way she put…
The Day My Front Bum Went Psycho
At one point I had an extraordinarily busy job. Not the regular, status conscious, kind of busy which is the new ‘good’ these days. You know, when someone asks you how you are and you respond ‘busy’, automatically, as once you might have said ‘good’ or ‘well thanks.’? Well, my job wasn’t that kind of busy. It was not merely…
Chasey
First published on Catherine Deveny’s Gunnas Writing Masterclass site: The bell rang and we all piled out the door, splitting into smaller groups as we shuffled down the corridor. In the breezeway someone shouted ‘tiggy on the oval’ and we all started running. The oval was soggy under foot after the rain over night. Marty was the last to arrive,…