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 →
Ocean Palm Hotel
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 →
Trains and Tutus
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's late and misses the show. But his feet keep moving forward, over and down the metal steps, too hard to stop once momentum kicks in.... 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, 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 lot of gear... Continue Reading →
Flash Series #2
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...'
Flash Series #1
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 →
Writing Journal 17/01/18
FWJ #10 '..You asked me all the places I want to go, and I gave you my list. You asked me why, and I told you. I stared at your face, not hearing a word I was saying...'
Writing Journal 16/01/18
FWJ #9 Those deep and meaningfuls that always take you somewhere special.
Writing Journal 15/01/18
FWJ #8 '..Every tumble sounded like a blow from a heavyweight fighter, like it should be the last. But the underdog kept going, it's undercarriage visible every four seconds...'
Writing Journal 14/01/18
FWJ # 7 '...They were only half open and heavy, but her eyelids still made each blink seem effortless. She'd woken up late after the weirdest dream...'
Writing Journal 12/01/18
FWJ #5 '..But in quiet moments his compulsion is not to count. In quiet moments he flicks the tips of each finger on his left hand, as fast as he can...'