epilogue – Issue Two

The wheezing generators Smother Mother Nature’s own gasps, The crickets and the cane frogs, But tonight’s moonlight needs a boost Out here far from the Stuart Highway. We need the lamps to witness This multi-drawered wonder, To have light to read by, These stories and poems, Each in a numbered drawer, Forevermore, While our shoes stain red From the iron in the soil Before The … Continue reading epilogue – Issue Two

They Have Knives, Don’t They? – Christina Dalcher

I tell my girls when they’re young, because younger is better in these matters. Before their blood begins its monthly flow, before their breasts bud and the peach fuzz on their legs turns coarse, I sit them down for the talk. “Never get into a car with a boy. That’s the only rule.” “Why not, Mama?” Always the same question. This is when I tell … Continue reading They Have Knives, Don’t They? – Christina Dalcher

The Stranger – Drew Sable

He watched from the shadows as hundreds of bright colours swarmed past: reds, blues and greens mingled with the duller browns and blacks that were always present. Constantly moving, they weaved and swerved around each other to avoid collisions. Some moved in groups, some alone. The lone ones might be easier targets but for the fact that they moved quicker. Flecks of white swirled amongst … Continue reading The Stranger – Drew Sable

Gran’s Biscuit Tin – Gaynor Kane

Borrowed from a cousin hoping to add colourful leaves to a bare tree, on the base, Inglis Bakery claims creation; a family bakery, bred locally. Perhaps the crumbs of the biscuits, eaten long ago, dusted the lips, on faces now nestled within the tarnished silver lining. Its sides are speckled with rust, like the age spots on her hands, now passed away, dots un-joined. Lid … Continue reading Gran’s Biscuit Tin – Gaynor Kane

A Private Inconvenience Among Fifteen Oak Trees – Alva Holland

Fifteen oak trees along, in the middle of a clearing, on a raised painted concrete plinth, a Tardis-like structure sits, its mirrored aluminium walls reflecting the muted autumn girdling greens of the woods. An electronic reader pad flares its infra-red beacon through the soft thicket. An access card waved over the reader instructs the door to slide left into the mirrored wall. The enclosure claims … Continue reading A Private Inconvenience Among Fifteen Oak Trees – Alva Holland