* This piece is a response to Rob Wilcher’s beautiful poem “Carry the Water”.   The stream eddies, as his hand drifts. …

Jenna could not believe her luck as she followed Jeremy down the sandy wooden path that led to the beach. Was this …

They say your life flashes before you when you die. They are wrong. It’s your future you see. Like when you lean …

The boy watched the old man crouched By the pool in the sun stirring the water With an even hand. He was …

The shooting started at around 4.30 pm; most of the neighbourhood mothers had herded their kids inside and were probably doing what …

Fred takes one of the nails he holds between his lips and places it against the timber, hammering it home with far …

“MUM.  Did you send it?” Clara’s twelve-year-old selfishness stole her thoughts … again.  “Are you listening to me?” Her daughter stomped her …

For Sheila and Roger   Let us go then, you and I, to gape at sunsets spread across the sky, that meld …

‘Chintana darling, I’m going to be late tonight.  Please don’t wait up for me.’ ‘Alright Auntie Tok, have a great night.  Don’t …

your father beat you or someone else in the family your mum or one of your siblings,   when the air is …