1 August: Limnia Limina, a graduate-level, peer-reviewed journal operating out of UWA, are calling for papers for their 2027 Special Edition on “Memory”. They accept non-fiction articles, prose, poetry and creative research. Please submit your article as an email attachment in MS Word format or Rich Text Format to liminajournal@gmail.com. Appears free to enter. 2 August: 2026 UQP Mentorship Prize for Under-represented Writers Open to Australians and permanent residents over 1

He was her rock. I’ve always thought that was an odd thing to say about someone. To me, a rock is an object that is hard to move, especially if it’s the size of a human. Does that mean he was always firm with her, never backing down, and that somehow that gave her strength to stand by her own decisions and opinions? Or maybe it just means he was steadfast and true. That’s what I’d like to think. Don’t you think a rock sounds very masculine? Certainly not delicate and feminine

The June Meeting Welcome back! The June meeting was lively as ever. Our prompt word was Glow, which inspired stories nautical, tropical, and extra-terrestrial. Some brilliant pieces emerged, and some are up on the website; more to follow! We met at Bostin Brew. The venue worked well overall, though audibility remains a challenge. People travelled from far and wide again, and we were delighted to welcome some new faces and fresh talent. We hope to see them again soon. Mea

Writing groups in Newcastle Group name Date & time Location Description Status Contact Write Up! Last Friday of month, 6:30pm Online For writers with disability or neurodivergence Open, Free cedarwhelan@gmail.com Kids Lit – Maitland 1st Monday, 10-12:30 Maitland For picture book writers and illustrators of all levels. open Linda Hutchinson (HWC) (membership $50pa) Writing for publication 1st Tuesday, 7-9pm Newcastle Aiming to be published. ‘Write short impromptu stories

Bonn slumped in the airseat, head held low. “I didn’t mean to cause worry. You and Puter are so wonderful to me. Without you I would have never survived here. But I am the only one, I am alone. I-I-I am matchless!” Mother blinked gently. “My boy, you are carbon-based, as are all animals and plants on this planet. I understand you want to know someone like yourself. Cuddles is your constant companion; this is good. I am delving into how to reconstruct your especial

It was freezing. Cynthia pulled her jacket around her neck. She scrunched her neck down into the collar like a bird scrunches into its feathers. If she breathes into her collar then that freezing air won’t get into her lungs and make her cough. God how she hated this winter. Her unknown companions stood around the bus-stop vaping. What is it with these people she thought. Can’t they stop this ridiculous habit. The sickly-sweet chemical smell of their vapes wafted into the bus

‘Shall I look up some local eateries?’ He has phone poised and ready, Google imminent. 'Why don't we ask the concierge?' 'I duno, I saw a bunch of restaurants on the way in from the airport.' She ignores him and trots up to the hotel desk, as chirpily as a ten hour flight will allow. 'Hi, could you recommend some nearby restaurants, please? Low-key, not far, not too expensive. Do you have something that's a local speciality?' 'Ah, yes,' the man behind the strangely low desk n

Low? Mow? Mowed? Row? Rowed? Sow? Sowed Slow? Slowed? Tow? Snow? Hello? Blow? Blown? Crow? Crowed? Flow? Flowed? Know? Grow? Glow? Glowed? The English teacher at a school in Frankfurt Germany taught his students, as shown. The English speaking student called out What about vow? What about row? What about cow? What about bow? What about how? What about now? What about wow? What about brow? What about brown? What about clown? What about frown? What about down? Then, again, Wh

Testing his pulse, feeling his breath, wind in his hair, on his face. Blinking, shaking his head to make sure this isn’t some dream and he will wake. He runs the blade across his palm just before it draws blood. Musingly “Yep, feel that”. He lifts his head to the darkening sky; suns sitting on his horizon, blankets of stars begin to shine. Through tears “I KNOW!!! I am alonnnneeee” he bellows to the stars. Cuddles joins his guttural cry. The scream of melancholy echoes

Sitting in a big comfy chair Charlie looked out the window of his mummy’s house, well, soon-to-be his house, and wondered how to best handle this new found position that circumstance had landed him. He has known about this job his whole life. He has, literally, been in training, in rehearsal but on the wings of this job for his whole life. He has always known that, one day, he would hold this position. The major downside was, that for him to get this job, his mum had to d

The sun came up over Stradbroke like a raging bushfire, lighting the dawn sky with streaks of red and orange. Kookaburras cackled in the gum trees as I took my morning cuppa onto the deck and chose a spot in the sun. The warmth of the coffee seeped into my winter bones as I sat on the sofa. In the garden, the dragon fruit had dropped their night flowers and the pink fruits were firming. Almost too beautiful to eat. A flurry amongst the foliage brought a sulphur crested co

It was two nights in a row that I saw the glow in the sky. It hung there, waiting. At least to me it felt like it was waiting. Waiting for what? I did not know. By night four I decided I was going to wait. For what? I did not know. My eyes started to droop just as the glow expanded to the ground. Then a three-legged creature walked toward me. It also glowed from top to bottom, so much so that it was difficult to discern its features other than the three legs. “Hello,” I said,

- I am slow. - Turtles are slow. - Slow like a well of ink drying. - Fast like ink drying on the page. - Does the ink dry just as fast as on well and page. - The ink in pen seems to be dry. - My pen indents the page. - My ink returns and leaves. ۭ °Do I need to wait? ۭ Do I need to use the other side of my pen. ۬Should I ask someone for a pen? Would they have an inkling of mercy for me? Never mind my pen is working aga

Us women who have danced on earth with nimble feet now curled who have buried untold pain with sturdy bones now brittle who have cradled life with welcoming hearts now timid Us women are the tally of our trials the sum of our scars the wealth of our words the measure of our memories the scale of our strengths the heft of our hearts

We’re trying something new, the other half and I. He bought a guitar, I got out my mandolin. Alone, we sound just fine Our tunes when matched Are out of kilter Peeling decking prepped for paint Same tin, the perfect match But new-spread patches darkly smooth Weathered layers in faded shades Match my skills to job requirements They’re such a perfect fit But apparently I’ve weathered: They want fresh paint If all the warehouses Of crippled dreams Should accidentally burn

"You Glow." There was a brief silence. "Really… You think so?" A tentative response. "Oh, yes… I mean: sometime women merely… shine… But you glow…" "Now you’re just… well… Being too much…" "No…no…no…I would not lie about a thing like that…truly… The halo around your head…gives it away. You know…Like when the moon has a halo… It is really obvious." A lot of smiling all 'round. The woman glanced about. The other couples were deep in their own conversations. To be hon

‘Do you know this man?’ ‘Know?’ Her eyes open wide, and her fingertips touch her sternum in affronted shock. The man indicated raises an eyebrow at her. ‘Why, I’ve known you since you were born, and Mary knotted the lace for your christening gown. Of course you know me!’ She turns to him, a stiffened pillar of moral indignation. ‘Why, Sir, were one to play fast and loose with language, one might carelessly term an acquaintance, even a family friend, as such. However, on

Ashera looked over at her husband. Oh, for goodness sake I wish he’d cut his hair and beard. It doesn’t suit him and he looks messy. What is he trying to prove? Is he trying to look younger…or eternal even? He looked across at her and said ‘What?’ ‘Can you cut your beard and hair please?’ ‘No people like it like that. It’s what they expect.’ ‘Shouldn’t you be wanting to maybe do what I like for once?’ He stared at her, not understanding. It wasn’t about her. It was

Wandering aimlessly through purple grass fields, a flutter of blue bow butterflies float around his legs resettling onto nectar grasses. He usually bouncers fast and wide across the valleys, grasping the wonder of landscapes, but today is a lazy wander with Cuddles plodding and grumbling softly beside him offering gruff short moos and cat-style purrs. Being unique here, Bonn tries to assimilate with nature; to tie himself to the ebb and flow of this valley, pulse of the lan