Controlling her anger was one thing. But it didn’t stop her ramming his car. Nathan had been dead for a year. The …
Controlling her anger was one thing. But it didn’t stop her ramming his car. Nathan had been dead for a year. The …
Waiting for the bell to ring, crouching on a sticky icy bench, the chill from the asphalt squirming through my shoes and …
I knew when I saw her face I’d be dead that afternoon. The smile so frighteningly sweet, her purple cat’s eyes aglow. …
The train stalls; she feels her pocket for her passport and ticket, hugs her knees. Dirty snow speckles the thick window. She …
She’s exhausted. She wants to go back to the beginning, but she’s lost, lost. Too many people on the streets; cars …
London was never this dark. Not even with the fog black as soot and thick as a toff’s curtains did it …
No coward soul is mine; no trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere, she always murmured. Before every protest, every demonstration, she …
‘It is the stillest words that bring on the storm’ …
Boris flinched like a child, moved swiftly across the cell and hovered beside me; unexpected, this late in the day. ‘What’s your …
‘It’s rising too fast, we’ll drown if we don’t get out now,’ Pearl cried as you sloshed through the sodden hallway. That …
Christmas eve was its usual self: expectant, dissatisfied, drunk. But still a glass half-full. Sahara leaned her tired shoulders against the …
A schoolroom, North Yorkshire, 1840 I begged Charlotte to teach alone today; I cannot bear the girls’ scathing eyes. She tells me …
The shooting started at around 4.30 pm; most of the neighbourhood mothers had herded their kids inside and were probably doing what …
I never saw the murderer that Christmas day. Bonnie did, and Moss – or so they said. Mama told me not to …
See this woman. Maybe viewed as doing okay by some. Lives in a cramped rented flat near Botany with her two …
After the funeral the girl’s mother won’t let her go near the old man who has been sitting at the back …
Hell is other people. – Sartre There’s no denying it: Vanya’s a hero. Brave and fearless, he returned from the …
I. I am going to Turkey. Post covid, of course. When – I don’t know. Where – mainly Istanbul. How …
Please, he says, as sternly as possible. A bit too sternly though: he hasn’t used that tone for years. He flinches, …
And, after all these years, she still can’t touch it. Snow. It makes it difficult, living in a mountainous atmosphere. Every …
‘What you get is no tomorrow’ David Bowie, Fame After her best friend was killed in the Paris restaurant by ISIL …
…A Tale Told in Triptych… CHAPTER 1: WHITE TSARINA After they told me my boy was a haemophiliac I believed I …
‘I didn’t expect you this early, Dad.’ She was as brittle as usual, a blonde shadow, sitting stiffly in the velvet gold …
You’re in the air, swirling, when a face gazes from the tiles below. Hitting the water, your perfect half-twist dive is knotted …
‘For chrissakes, put it away!’ We winced as Aunty Vi bellowed at my cousin again, her voice as subtle as a dying …
From the other side I watch them enter the church. Sitting at the altar, beside the priest, just near the satiny …
‘Loonies speak their own language, like educated people.’ The Tree of Man, Patrick White Let’s just walk, let’s just …
It was my first time. The rifle was slippery in my fingers, and Jojo laughed when I nearly dropped it. I’d seen …
‘It’s hurting,’ mumbled the old man. He shuffled in the seat, closed his eyes to the fluorescent light above him. The …
The stadium roars like a thunderbolt. So loud her chest vibrates. Are the heavens pulsating? Is it war out there, or just …
‘I’m telling you, garbagemen can deal with anything. The smell of corpses, shit, rotten eggs. The worst stink in the world, …
Ilse cowers; her body trembles. All because she knows, immediately, who she has collided with while rounding the blitzed corner. Despite …
Deedee’s been losing weight. She stands and watches herself in the mirror. Runs her hand down the sides of her nightie …
We are a group of early writers who met at the Writer's Studio in Bronte, NSW (Australia) and want to showcase our creativity for the public to enjoy. Each of us has committed to producing a short story each month - that's roughly 4 or 5 stories each month.
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