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

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

At early morn, about once a month (homeworld time), the night sky would be almost dark. The trillion stars meet the BlueBow Butterflies as they rise from the grasses to blend like stars joining the celestial paradise. The air is a bit crisp, even chilly, and the translucent animals and birds meld into Bonn’s visuals. He normally couldn’t see them in daylight but at this precious time they blend and move like a slow trickle throughout the grasslands below their camp. Bonn