May 2026 Do we all know the nursery rhyme about ‘the cow jumped over the moon’? Did the cow really jump over the moon? Absolutely not – cows can’t jump. And they certainly can’t jump over the moon. Haha, impossible ‘The little dog laughed to see such sport.’ Well, little dogs yap, but they don’t laugh. And jumping over the moon doesn’t sound like a sport!? ‘The dish ran away with the spoon’ Dishes can’t run. Spoons can’t run. So … all rubbish, stop misleading and

If you’re an online influencer there’s no respite from the tyranny of posting. Every situation dissolves into a potential source of content. You can never stop stoking that fitful flame of public interest. Stop posting and the followers die down, and so does your income. How many ways can you film your budgie? How many recipes with rage-bait mistakes can you make? How many clothes can you ‘style’ before you start losing your mind and wearing three skirts at once: one as a ski

Mungo does not approve of the new manager. He looks askance at her: her fashionable outfit curated to be the perfect combo of casual and professional, her solicitous insistence on endless woke ideologies, her damned salads for lunch. Damned jumped-up housewife. He’s not sure how anyone let her out of the kitchen. Mungo stands musing on the woes and injustices of a world that could allow such outrages. ‘Have you finished with this?’ A voice cones from behind him. He starts

Crouching low he looks around pensively, not blinking, just staring through the reeds. He shivers slightly in anticipation, excitement and fear. Everyone else can do this; every one of his dozens of brothers and sisters have been merrily, actively springing around for weeks now. He shuffles, re-balances, squats again, raises his little bottom up, sits down, shuffles, squats, re-balances, raises his bottom again, shuffles, then sits down again. ‘I can do this. It’s easy,

Jumper? I scribbled down jumping hmmm… jump-start… is that two words, or one? Uh, I’ll do it later I reckoned with myself as I folded up the puzzle section of the newspaper and placed it to the side. I stood up and looked down on the floor at my pile of books and decided to pick up a few to place back on the shelf in an effort to tidy my mind a little. Ah, I sighed, and began rugging myself up in preparation for stepping outdoors into the crisp autumn air. The atmosphere

1 June: The Novel Prize Literary fiction in English, open to published and unpublished. Minimum 30,000 words, and entry seems to be…free. Prize $10,000 (USD) and publication. 1 June: Geography Writing Competition Theme: Changing Environments in Queensland. Short story or memoir, 500 word max. Entry $10 (AUD). Prize $300, $150, and a 1-year RGSQ membership. 1 June: The Australian Fiction Prize Harper Collins’s annual fiction prize for adult fiction 75,000-10,000 words, ope

It is Bonn’s job to prepare his meals, with help from Puter, who has 10,000 recipes stored and the skills of old-world Michelin Chefs. Bonn always wears a mask when preparing BlueMelons and is heavily discouraged from eating more than a quarter daily. He has found Budda-finger Lemon look-alikes that, when dried, have a crisp umami flavour. They are carnivorous fruit-plants that drag small reptiles in with their tentacle fingers. The meat is often ScareyCat roasted in a pe

The April meeting It was great to welcome new members Claire and Linda at the last meeting. The random prompt was ‘Dayve’ and we all had fun with it. Have a look at some of the stories we wrote here. We ended up at Ground Up Espresso in Carrington, which was not a bad venue. We found a particularly sunny spot at the back and enjoyed the afternoon. Next Meeting Monday 11th May, Café Inu, Carrington, 12:00 As usual we’ll no doubt be chatting and ordering food until at l

8 May: Laura Literary Awards Open themed, 1,500 w short story, entry $20, prize $200. YA Short Story, 1,200 w, no entry fee, prize $200. Upper primary Short Story, 800 w, no entry feel, prize $50. Junior primary Short Story, 800 w, no entry feel, prize $25. Junior primary Short Story, 500w, no entry fee, prize $15. Open poetry, 60 lines, entry fee $10, prize $200. Bush poetry, 60 lines, entry fee $10, prize $200. YA poetry, 60 lines, no entry fees, prize $50. Junior poetry, 6

Sorry. I'm sorry Mum I never told you about dad's truths omission. Yes, when I was taking the train daily with him back from uni, one day he'd not expected I had caught his train. I boarded at the last minute and slowly made my way to his usual carriage. There he was sitting next to a woman as fixated on previous decades as him, sitting closer to her that I'd ever seen my parents sit. And holding the hand of a woman I didn't know. It's probably why you questioned or verba

Bonn is growing into a tween as he manages an expanding farming settlement. Mother observes an uninitiated phenomenon. Bonn is silently reflecting with deceased sentient beings and softly pronouncing ‘Sorry’ and ‘Thank-you’. Database identifies this as developing ethics. History notes the ancient movement called ‘Religion’, that held widespread practice on Homeworld, insisted that a mono (or multi) deity initiated and imposed ethics on its practitioners. Now, a lone, uni

‘I’m sorry for not doing everything you asked when you asked it. I’m sorry I didn’t put the car in the garage exactly how you wanted it, even though it was exactly where you put it last time. I’m sorry I don’t calculate numbers in the exact method that you do, even though we still come to the same result. I’m sorry I don’t dress up better when we go out even though you wear the most ridiculous and inappropriate old clothes. I’m sorry I don’t agree with the same things as you,

‘Jono, it’s me.’ ‘Yeah, what d’ja want?’ ‘Well, you know how you said you could return a favour to me for helping you do better and getting 43% in your English essay?’ ‘Yeah. Mum was really pleased with that,’ Jono said proudly. ‘Yeah, well I need you to get something for me.’ ‘Yeah, what?’ ‘Well, you see there’s this girl I really, really like and I know I can talk to her ok, but I don’t really know how to get her into bed.’ ‘Yeah right, so?’ ‘Well, I was think

They stroll up the ridge. Cuddles is large enough to ride but he prefers to not burden her. Grumblebums are big and particularly angry beasts but Cuddles and her mum have uncharacteristically calm natures. She grunts and grumbles softly beside him. Her four eyes move both synchronistically and independently, if she senses danger, giving her a 270-degree visual range. They reach the top and marvel at the vista. This is their daily treat. Bonn tries, again, to instruct

‘Stand up! Sit down.’ ‘Make up your bloody mind’. Cassie sat down. ‘Come over here.’ ‘Oh for God’s sake what now’. Cassie moved over to the window. ‘What? What is it? I can’t see anything.’ I wish he’d bloody well explain himself better. ‘Now come and look at this.’ ‘You have to be f&%*ing kidding me. Yes what?’ Cassie got off the lounge and strolled over. ‘Again I can’t see a thing, you moron,’ she stated the obvious. But he was oblivious to her insults. This wen

‘I don’t care, I’m keeping my surname. It’s a ridiculous custom. Besides, the hassle. Ugh.’ He shrugs. ‘Oh, I see that. How about if we choose something different? Like, both of us.’ ‘That’s just making a fuss for the sake of it. Why bother?’ ‘Well… I could change my first name at the same time.’ She raises her eyebrow. ‘To…?’ ‘Well I could get it spelled right, to start with.’ She’s too polite to comment, and there’s a silence. He continues. ‘I've been lumped w

“It’s all day! You have to be here ALLLL DAY!” “No, no way. Too long. Let’s just make it a coupla hours? Huh!” “Nope! Rules says ‘It’s a DAY” “But, but” he sulks. “You’re a bully” “I haven’t got all day” demands another “three hours, that’s enough. Three, maybe four, that’s plenty, but not allllll dayyyyy!” “Look sweetheart, if he said all day it’s going to bloody well be ALL-bloody-DAY!!” “What do you mean?” said the cross-eyed snob in the corner “that we ha

Dayve used to be Dave. Why... I hear you ask the reason for the name change? Well all I can say is, what an improvement! For if truth be known, you are much more a DAYVE than a ‘Dave’. There are plenty of Daves in this world... let’s face it. Apparently in 1966 ‘Dave’, D.A.V.E was voted the year’s most boring name... Quite a feat. And that generation knew what it was on about: long hair, beads, free love, and cheap shots at God-blessed politicians who wanted to save th

Mother works on refining purple Wildgrass into harvestable products. Its tiny seeds produce drops of nectar, that BlueBow Butterflies love. For years, Mother has cultivated the germ embryo extract for a rich food-additive mixture. This gives Bonn tremendous nutritional energies. They have a corral to keep semi-domesticated Grumblebums, using sachets of spook grass to sedate them slightly but Bonn insists, eventually, they let them free to roam. Two stay around without s

Day ‘ have ‘Day’ve taken all of dem.’ Dayton scoured the drawers, finding nothing but rubber bands and old crayons from when his nephew stayed last April for the holidays. ‘Where did they put de damn tings.’ His botched dental work from seven years ago, which caused his daily migraines and speech difficulties, had affected his internal monologue. His inner voice, aped the outer voice’s speech. As if his disembodied mental self had an appointment at the same dentist. Did the l