Category: Prose
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Within the Viewfinder
Marie slips the nail of her ring finger beneath the sleeve of her thick woollen jacket, peeling it back to reveal the watch face. Its little hand paces impatient circles around eight forty-five, collecting frantic seconds. She sighs with frustration, shuffling her boots in the snow. He is fifteen minutes late. The newspaper has tasked…
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Poo Man
Poo Man thought he would make a new hat. He had plenty of things to make a hat. He needed a shave too. He had been so involved in his project lately that he was starting to forget to look after himself. Israeli power stations seeped into the afternoon air. The park that Poo Man…
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The Friend
There once was a boy named Craig who was very unfortunate. One of these misfortunes was that his name was Craig, and not something like Daemon, or Link or Zuko (as his fellow classmates were named). Other misfortunes involved said classmates with whom he went to school, and if he were to really pity himself…
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Served
Tonight, I am ethereal, and I glow. With a midnight blue light stretching across my skin, I am an alien. Tonight, you ask for a shot and a cocktail and a cigarette and a resurrection of your soul. And tonight, I am a human-like alien. In a bar, in the rushed streets of nightlife Melbourne.…
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Strawberry Blonde
TW: Pedophilia By Chloe Payne The shit and piss soaked rug burns into my nostril hairs late in the night. It gurgles and splutters lively out of its host — before setting into a burgundy crisp mess on the wooden floor panels. Crimson specs can be seen on an orange left alone. I begin to…
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Teatime
TW for unpleasant eating experience/gagging Harry held his pinky out as he drank, pursing his lips to sip a shy mouthful of tea. He smiled and set the cup down on its saucer, careful not to let it clink. ‘How’d you like it?’ ‘Delightful, madam.’ ‘Try the spaghetti.’ Harry hummed. This moment had happened once…
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Clingin’ in the rain
The storm is chaos. Flashes of light streak sporadically through the creases of your blinds – shining the tiny shoebox of a bedroom ivory. In between beams of light, the thumping and pounding of thunder force you awake. Every fragment of your flesh bumps up in a shiver at the noises and sights you can…
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Fatherland
Family portrait 1 by Helen Norton, from the series of paintings “ Once Upon a Time there was a Man”, published in 1995. Part 1: “Hey Marcus!!! What’s up with you?”, a voice echoes from the back of the bus. Marcus turns his back and scans the bus, faces and faces pass through…
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Familiarity
I know those eyes. The cold unfeeling blue. I know that malicious smile. The grinding and retching of the teeth. I know those freckles. The splattered pattern like a bleach stained dress. The blonde hair. The gaunt cheeks. The vacant stare. I know those features. Because they are features of me. I slowly reach out…