Jack Auburn isn’t your typical 24-year-old surfer, bleached and browned by the coastal sunshine. Throughout his childhood, he spent countless hours outside under the wide country sky mucking around in runnelled crop fields and climbing trees. He’s grateful that not much has changed, although the handfuls of country dirt that used to run through his... Continue Reading →
He hadn’t moved all afternoon, guitar cradled against his chest. He’d played a note every now and then but mostly he just ran his fingertips along the strings as he watched people pass by below. He peeled its wooden body from his skin as he slouched a little further down on the lounge chair, an... Continue Reading →
Following his sister up the building’s exterior stairs I can see that Jack’s work is already spilling out into the world. The brick façade holds a gentle monochrome face, her eyes closed, surrounded by a noisy mess of swirling colour. Nearing the top of the stairs a thumping vibration builds through the railing. My friend... Continue Reading →
Ryan’s heart sinks when he hears the whistle. He hasn’t even reached the escalators yet, there’s no way he’s going to make it. He’ll never live it down if he misses the show. But his feet keep moving forward, over and down the metal steps, too hard to stop once momentum kicks in. His bag... Continue Reading →
You don’t have to be crazy to be a writer. But it helps. There's a reason most writers are a little unhinged. Einstein is often quoted for saying insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. I wonder if he realised he was describing a typical day for a writer. Every... Continue Reading →
'You can see everything from up here'. I grab for Jimmy's shirt as he leans forward, hips against the ledge and his top half leaning out over the edge looking down to the street three storeys below. 'Geez, Jim. Come on. Quit fooling around' I yank him back, hard as I can. We have a... Continue Reading →
Flash Series #2 '..'Babe, why is your shirt on backwards?' Such a simple question. But she didn't have an answer. Not a reasonable, logical answer, other than that was how she'd put it on. Not on purpose, of course...'
No one else is awake. It's just me and her. Me sitting on the back step. She crouched in the forest of grass. Black velvet fur. Ears standing straight up and pointed. Her glass bead eyes look like those of my childhood bear. But she isn't a bear. She's a bunny. A wild rabbit. I... Continue Reading →
FWJ #9 Those deep and meaningfuls that always take you somewhere special.