The Moving Pen | Classic Blog

Classic Blog

Sharing life experiences in style.
funeral flowers

Caroline stepped off the greyhound bus and onto the dusty red earth. She threw her backpack onto the ground and watched a plume of red smoke rise up. She put her long arms over her head and stretched upwards, towards the early morning sun. She squinted as the bright sun pierced her sleepiness and she twisted and turned her body, back into its normal position after the overnight bus from …

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Gift Part 11

A blur of blue and white light. Voices. Electronic beeps. Geoffrey’s head pounded. He moved his arm. His limbs were lead. It would not move. It was tethered, somehow to his wrist. A cloth bandage there, like bindings beneath a boxer’s glove, a tube that travelled up, up somewhere. A beep. He struggled beneath starched folds of white sheets and blanket. He turned his head. The pounding intensified. A small …

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Blue

It was when Albert backed the car into the driveway and turned off the engine that he got stuck. It wasn’t the car that got stuck, it was Albert. And he wasn’t stuck physically, he was just stuck. He could unbuckle his seat belt – he wasn’t trapped there. He was totally free and able to get out and enter his house, but he was just stuck. He had reversed …

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Outback Food Revolution

There was grumbling at the station The news had reached the men That their favourite cook, Asian Jack, had received the DCM.   The ringer called the foreman And demanded a fair hearing. “Bring back Asian Jack,” he said, “Or there’ll be no further shearing.”   The foreman stared at the mob Of querulous angry men Who stood beside a bleating flock Of unshorn in their pen.   There was …

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Paparazzi-supermodel

‘What you get is no tomorrow’  David Bowie, Fame   After her best friend was killed in the Paris restaurant by ISIL that November in 2015 Veronica experienced déjà vu, yet felt bemused, when the journalists kept banging at her door, accosting her on the street, asking her the same questions over and over. Rose had been the only Australian in the massacre, and a finalist on Masterchef. A TV …

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Back in her private chambers it took a long time for Lysandra’s tears to stop flowing. Sitting on the end of the bed, Kaylah held up a mirror to her. There were streaks all over her face. ‘I look like a zebra,’ Lysandra said. ‘It’s understandable. I certainly wouldn’t like the idea of being married to Khafis,’ Kaylah replied. ‘Can your father really force you to marry against your will?’ …

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Impotence beats a steady drum at her temples as Beth retreats to the sanctity of her privacy pod. Her small lithe fingers tap at her comms pod, reactivating it to receive messages from all contacts.  It buzzes; staccato at her wrist. She has more than one thousand messages since midday.  Slowly, she voices a short message, “Happy Festival!  I have no knowledge of decree. Hope to catch up in 2121.” …

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This piece is an 800 words piece for a spoken voice competition:  Entanglement – Voices of Women.  https://voiceswomen.com/entanglement/.  It was written in response to an ABC Life Matters podcast in which women spoke about their experience with Menopause.  For something that happens to every woman, it was astounding how disparate and often heartbreaking this journey is for some. While the piece was not successful, I feel this is a subject …

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Arrival

When we stop, blind bodies collapse in a mound of sick, sweat and BO. I scramble to breathe. Someone kicks me. Yusef clings to my neck crying, heavy as a sandbag. The tanker lid opens, and our first light for days slumps upon us, the lost praying to the heavens. We hear, “Everybody out!” and urge our tired forms through the opening, like laundry through a wringer. When I emerge …

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Lysandra’s right foot came out of her sandal as she took the bend at pace. A troop of Roman soldiers marching in the opposite direction on the dusty road laughed at her. One of them bent down, picked it up and gave it her. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled, her face reddening. As she knelt to put the sandal back on, someone wolf-whistled. It came from one of the stonemasons across the …

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