‘Open them Close them Put them away!’   Widely applicable? A riddle?   A drawer ? Them what? Clothes? Eyes ? (-> peepers) Where can you put your eyes away? Oh, maybe contacts? Doors  of life? Put those unattainable dreams of life tucked safely away? Window ? Can’t put away a window! Presents , right? Open then works, but? Close them? Nope – blows up.   Who was the ‘stream of consciousness’ thing author? That Irish bloke…What’s his name? Escaped! A closed mind. Sinclair? No I

I’ve recently moved to Jindabyne.  There have been a few lifestyle changes to adjust to.  One of these is work.  I had a business before I moved from Newcastle, but it was a consulting business that only really worked if I could be onsite, only now, I’m 600 kilometres away from my customers.  I have a choice, either, rebuild the same business here by finding new customers, or start a new business doing something new.    One idea is to put water in cans and sell it online.  He

POP! BANG! – Exploded the tire suddenly.   ‘Fuck, not now!’ complained Mum, who had to hold the annual Mothers of NSW expo. Mum got out of her car and got the carjack out of her boot. She was in the middle of the bush with no phone signal, so trying to call the NRMA would be useless. As she was almost done changing her tire, she heard loud rustling in the bush. Thinking she might get a good chance to get a good picture of a kangaroo, she took her phone out of her car and went

The knife was held to her throat. ‘What if this is a real knife? What if the actor is really going to kill me? What do I know about her? Did I check to ensure the knife was the prop knife? OH MY GOD, I DIDN’T!’ With that Kala grabbed the hand with the knife, she reefed the arm out away from the actors body, twisted it around…and whoops, she broke it. The actor wreathed around the stage in pain. The audience applauded. The director closed the curtain to a standing ovation. The

The knife was golden. Well, the blade was. The handle was obsidian. It was a sacred object from the 17th Dynasty of an ancient civilization whose name was lost to time. Such a knife was unique... Hence worth spilling blood over: either that, or it was a cheap fake made in some grubby corner of the world best avoided by decent folk. Who would know? Well, it was the job of Peregrine Aloysius Smith to find out. And find out he would. For Smithy loved a challenge...And cared deep

• That's not a knife, this is a knife. • Was it one of the Modernists who painted a picture of a • knife and said this is a knife? • Then another guy painted the same picture and said this is not a knife . Writing is like art, it is a deception. I am holding a knife in my hand right now. I am bleeding. Blood is falling from the sleeve of skin above my wrist. Did this happen? Maybe it did. If it did, the image you see in your mind is not quite like the actual incident. Could I

He crept along the banister holding on as best his little furry legs could grip the curved wood. Paint chips made the grip harder but the knife, firmly between his clenched jaws, glistened with spittle and sweat. The light was dim with only the moon coyly peeking out occasionally. It was enough to glisten off the blade that shone with a dull hue. He hissed and gulped back even more of his spit as he snaked around the banister pole flaking green shards of paint. No one wa

‘She gouged out his eye with a butter knife?’   ‘A plastic one.’   Jeannie sipped on her tea. ‘Were there no metal ones to hand?’ She replaced her cup in her saucer with a small chink.   ‘Perhaps she enjoyed the challenge.’   ‘Hm. Care for a white chocolate almond? They’re very good.’   ‘Oh, thank you, yes…So did you finish the backyard renovations? I heard you were doing some mosaics.’   ‘Yes, they’re done. All concreted over. Couldn’t leave that sort of stuff lying arou

Table grapes still sit. The light lights and warms the grapes. Grapes still green in bowl.

There is no choice.  No way off this planet, no charts to guide him back to safe environments.  The escape-pod is his survivor, friend, companion, parent and protector.  ‘Mother’ protects him, feeds him, fosters him, teaches him, finds and collects water from the water-table.  It doesn’t rain.  Dew rises to the surface when one of the moons pass and draws it from the groundwater aquifers.  It’s exciting to watch thousands of batbirds swooping or thundering grumblebums chasing

She sat on the table watching her mother cook. Her five-year-old legs dangling and swinging as she watched.   ‘I want to sit on the bench.’   ‘You can’t.’   ‘But I want to. I can’t see what you’re doing.’   ‘Well you can’t and that’s not a good reason to put your dirty little bottom on the bench.’   ‘Why not?’   ‘Because I said so.’   ‘Well, that’s not a good reason.’   Outsmarted by her five-year-old daughter the mother continued cooking with the ferocity of someone outsmart

Grapes are in a bowl. I see them still green sitting. Should I eat a grape?

‘Darlin, just try a little harder.’   ‘But I am Mummy, all I can do is try my hardest.’   Mummy hated being outsmarted by her 5yo.   ‘But I just don’t think you are really trying that hard.’   ‘Oh Mummy how could you say that. I ran around the field chasing that ball and all those other players kept getting in the way…and it’s really, really hot.’   ‘Yes Darling, but you just didn’t seem to kick it very hard when you did get to it.’   ‘Well, I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and

……and he pulled up into his parabolic arch after the booms, allowing him to create a controlled drop to the purple grass, just beside the spook reeds.  Making sure his mask was tight, he stepped onto their grounds making the reed roots spark wildly and trigger the pampas-type heads to explode into translucent spectres of green spook-shaped vapour.   He laughed, knowing the deadly fumes cannot hurt him as they did the red and black Pandabeast he witnessed choking to death when

I have a child with a motor impairment who struggles to open a door and close it again quickly after exiting.  I have a beagle who is an expert escape artist who will bolt through any door that is open for more than a few seconds, just to see why you’re going through.  He doesn’t always know what he wants to do on the other side, but it rarely involves coming straight back in.    Today, the dog has made it out through the garage to find a bush turkey wandering across the driv

The Brigantine lurched to starboard, sails filled and beams creaked their pain, snapping hard against the rigging, straining the beams as the sailors danced around the flailing ropes, trying to slow the snapping. Backs, hard against the winds. Torrents of water smashing into the hull and spitting over the railing and onto the deck that is awash with men, ropes, sweat, blood and pain. The captain pulled his tricorn deeper onto his skull as the wheel nearly spun out of his g

Through a particularly brilliant piece of thinking she brought in the idea of outsourcing the reproduction of flora. What she didn’t need was for trees and plants to move about. She had considered it, but it would unfortunately disrupt some of her other terrific designs, particularly mycelium and other creepy crawlies that lived under the plants…and cicadas (for which she had not yet come up with a purpose and probably never would).   She’d create something called wind. It wo

October 2025 There is a post Middle of a field A cow, Tied by neck As it wanders Rope coils round And range it wanders Shorten I can’t tell if being with you has me gnawing the same grass Or if the rope is air and It’s my imagination tied to the post How horrifying it is the thought that I could be boundlessly tripping through skies dark light crimson blue eating the stars but that I don’t for the thirst this post slakes I suppose the milk of my only-human kindness would spil

She walked around the block again. Then, she stopped. Will I? Won’t I? She checked her watch 3 2 1 And sprinted, her feet barely touching the ground. Some steps, she was pushing so fast that she nearly lost her balance. She fell on the ground. Her lungs were on fire. Her breaths couldn’t come fast enough. She sucked the air in. Cough Cough Too fast. The ache in her thighs was unfamiliar. Painful. Sweet. As her breathing slowed, there it was. The silence. She stood up. Here ey

Lord, I wish I was a little bit younger and knew what I know now.   Now – you may ask, what has that to do with today’s word, which is ‘unleashed’?   Hmmm I’m not sure, but it is quite truthful. I’m the oldest here, so I am unleashing, allowing myself liberties. But, no, I don’t wish I was a ‘little’ bit younger, and I reckon I know less now than before.