Kechaw Kedring Boof Booing Bounce, Bounce. Bounce. Smaller & smaller. “What ARE you doing?” Wham Whack Whollop The piece of wood flies...

Rustle, bustle, muscle. “Got to push through all this undergrowth.” Bartholomew winces over the sharp rocks, as prickles and thorns hit him in the legs. “Got to find more smelly things.” Getting hungry now, he bustles and scuffles his way through the long-grassed paddock. Another prick on his legs makes him yelp and dance just as he picks up the scent of something moving up ahead, someone to eat. “Yep, that smells great!” A caterpillar, maybe a mantis, anything, as he yelps

Elizabeth has ordered some new chairs. The boxes arrived yesterday. They’re a little smaller than I was expecting. When they arrived...

Cooee Eeooc High pitched. Low pitched. Bouncing around, off the walls, floor, ceiling. Brushing the contours of the stones. And it’s...

“Roger”, said the teacher. “Yes”, the class said, “no”, our teacher replied “Roger Morgan that boy there”, everyone laughed. “Sir”, the...

Who is Roger? Where is Roger? And why did he miss the train? Where is Roger now? Is Roger even Roger? Or an AI using just using his name...

Max has learnt how to open the back door through the laundry, and the internal door to the garage. He has also learnt how to smash...

‘Oh my goodness.’ Becky stops outside the café. A man is clutching at the brick wall, retching at a shrub. ‘Are you OK?’ (He patently is not OK.) The street is strangely deserted. His shoulders are heaving. His knees wobble. This is no time for squeamishness. She runs back into the café, comes back with a glass of water and some tissues. A choking, wobbly drinking process ensues. The man is about fifty, with grizzled hair and wearing a nice suit. He stares at her aghast. ‘Do

“It’s a tough one!” “It’s me bloody name. Always getting me into trouble. I mean who the fuck calls theirs their kid Sodomy?” Laughter,...

“Send Roger over, Rover Red Rover, send Roger right over” Stunned like a mullet, frozen on the spot, Roger couldn’t move – swayed with...

“Woger Woger. Or is it Weganold? – We had got to stop meeting like this.” “Well, maybe you can lend me your ears.” “Ears, I’ve got a whole bag full of ears.” “How about a Bwyan, do we have a Bwyan?” “Nope only Casscisuses, Juliuses and July’s a few Maximuses, a small Minus, and a Biggest Dickess.” “That’ll never do – we need a Woger.” “How about an Over n’Out, he’s a foreigner, but surely he’ll do?” “Nope we can’t have agreement to the Senate if we don’t have a Roger. All in

Max has gone to the garage. I’ve just looked in. He’s climbed into the car to play. I’ve decided to make the most of the opportunity to...

‘She left.’ ‘Why?’ ‘I don’t know. Urgent call of the wild? It was thirty years ago.’ ‘Where did she go?’ ‘I don’t know. She turned up in Arizona a few years later, I saw a news report some concert. She teamed up with some Peruvian band and an elephant re-wilding program, I seem to remember.’ ‘Odd combo for an engineer.’ ‘It would have been odd if it weren’t odd.’ I carry on kneading the dough, pounding a touch harder as images of Rosa’s schoolhood tick past in my memory. Are

Leaves fall from the tree as the season changes, colder shorter days of autumn becoming winter. some trees lose their leaves knowing...

‘Plastic bags! You wrapped my presents in plastic bags?’ It is what is inside that counts. ‘And what Op Shop did these come from? Well?’...

skinned alive enemies of whatever empire was on top at the time or those to be sacrificed martyrs to whoevers god was pouring forth their...

She walked up to her front door and grabbed the door handle to pull as she fumbled in her bag for her keys with the other hand. First...

The guitar and dulcimer are fabulous portable stringed instruments to play at jam sessions with others. The dulcimer is a 4-6 stringed...

The view moves and sways. Trying to capture a feel, a view, a mood. Nothing coming, just staring. Staring at his fingers. The gnarled scars of decades. Cuts, scrapes, scares; all time imprints. That blade cut just above the thumb, leaving a white scar, a semicircle in the demi-layer. The rain and wind beat at his face, darkness all around. Torch under the chin trying to see the broken wire. Production was down. $1000s per minute, slipping away. Every minute co

‘Fingerprints’ ‘Seriously, how am I meant to get past this?’ Arms akimbo, Janice surveys an uneven stack of crates piled obstreperously along the side passage of Goods Inwards. ‘Don’t look at me. I haven’t been to enough therapy sessions for my OCD to achieve that.’ Betty’s stance unconsciously mimics Janice’s as they now both stand contemplating the chaos. Their eyes meet. ‘Sue,’ they say in unison. Betty shakes her head. ‘It’s got her fingerprints all over it. Plus