Ellie to Sandra – The first part

“Under the soil, there’s something there

And In the water, there’s something,

An oil slick, or something, but watch close

Coz it’s quick and it slips down the river and suddenly it’s not our problem, so peel those eyes,

Something happened, I’m just not sure what –

But I’ve seen something from a different time,

Just in bits, never all together

Never all at once, but I’ve noticed,

(And I’d never lie)


One day, my dad said, when he was burying Grandad’s dog – you know Toby,

Poor lad, well he was moving back the soil,

And he told me, he said he saw a glint,

And it reminded him of a different time, in his youth,

But he was scared so he covered it over.

But I remember how he looked, when he let it out of his mouth and into my ear,

When I was privvy to the confession that he witnessed it.

So maybe, I’m thinking, we should go to the creek,

Where no one can see, and just dig around a bit.

It can be our coming of age story, we can tell our kids about it and one day maybe they’ll investigate, but they’ll have our added knowledge,

We can help them, even if we’re dead,

With a secret clue, that other parents were too scared to look into when they were younger.”

Spike I

At half ten at night while he was flicking through the pages of his girlfriend’s novel, a spike went through David Lyndhurst. Not a spike of pain, not a spike of inadequacy. A spike. The spike pierced him like a skewer through a kumquat at a middle class barbecue.

NPC – Part 1

My legs swung forward from the hip. I was agile. I didn’t feel the familiar and expected groaning of my calves, instead I felt happily strong and capable. I flew across the landscape without tortured breath or heaviness and I felt free.

I crawled round the house in the semi-darkness, resting often from the labour. I sighed as I plugged back in.

Looking around with alert bright eyes, I clenched my fists as I looked over across the small settlement. I climbed down from my vantage point.

Shanty buildings with a shiny sheen greeted my eye. A cliché in a chequered dress swept up pointlessly outside the cartoonish inn doors. A wind passed through as if to better animate the scene for my benefit and it tousled the cliché’s hair and gently parted the doors to the saloon. A ridiculous tumble weed crept just past her feet and she looked up to give me an empty smile.

I looked around to see if any other characters populated the area. There were none, so I walked my ridiculous cowboy walk over to the chequered caricature. Before she or I could speak I unwillingly tipped my ridiculous hat.

The sun beat down on my dirty face and it was the first time I’d felt truly uncomfortable there, as I prepared myself for speech. I wished her a good afternoon without incident and she gave me a “Howdy stranger, welcome to The Slanted Gran” in return. The name of the place appeared in my view and I felt an endorphin boost as if I’d achieved something, simply by “discovering” this new territory. Her mouth shaped the words so distinctly, with such purpose. Her eyes remained dim. She smiled at me blankly while I chose what to say.

She didn’t seem to notice I was a woman in typically masculine attire, despite the apparent time period, she didn’t seem to notice a lot. She just goofily grinned at me, her windswept hair moving in unnatural, lagging fragments.