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Latest Stories

September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

Autumnal Sonnet

The mist heralds a dreamy, tender Apollonian dawn. I philosophize about wings of hawk or king – sparrow. In amazing grove at the Blue Hours – was born here a fawn. You should adore as well as praise charm such a moony morn. The beauty of world is indeed so…
September 28, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 3: Friendships

The Skirmish - 1991 This was the place to be in the city of Shortland. Anyone who wanted to be someone was there, as was the someone who was known by everyone too. It was a gorgeous hot summer afternoon, on a Sunday. The pub garden was huge, and scattered…
September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

Flower-Like Sonnet

I cherish the dreamy crocus. I love the moony cornflower. I make love to bemused cactus. I affect dreamed daffodil. You are fond of vague elder. You love back a misty dahlia. You dote on languorous heather. You idolize the faint freesia. We prize hazy…
September 28, 2022
Flash Fiction NT Franklin

Smitty Gets Away

Smitty was where he wasn’t supposed to be and saw it all. Diamond Bill and two of his goons roughed up a fella, but it was the boss that shot the fella once in the head and twice in the chest. It was at that time he stopped trying to pry open the back door to…
September 28, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 14: The Proposition

February 2004 Jason was very tempted to go to the ladyboy bar, named 'Jenny's'. The music was always very good, a buzzing crowd, and some stunning looking lady boy's were there as well. He looked up and saw a load of girl's, well men, dancing on poles and…
September 28, 2022
Poetry Paweł Markiewicz

The Flower-Like Second Sonnet

I conceive the brilliant lilac. I build admirable holly. I design pleasant marigold. I constitute pleasing lily. You devise outstanding iris. You discover awesome poppy. You establish fine orchid. You forge an amazing pansy. She forms surprising peony. She…
September 25, 2022
Fantasy Stories Peter Greenhall

Energy, Volume II

Summer 1992 "Mummy, when I see Graham Alexander play football, I see fire inside his stomach. It burns really brightly, it's very nice to see". Hilary could see her daughter picture the image in her mind, completely fascinated by what she had witnessed…
September 25, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series, Chapter 2: The Brookies

September 2000 JJ entered Angie's bar to meet his potential new supplier, in an area of Brookbourne he'd never been to before, called Rippon. He was confident his connection to this guy was safe so he wasn't nervous about the person being an informer, or…
September 25, 2022
General Stories Lawrence Hartmann

God: A Dating App Adventure

“I won’t be hard to miss,” He had said on the phone. Well, He was right. When I got to our assigned meeting place – a Burger King on the outskirts of town – I could see Him from the parking lot: this incredibly bright, white light, there in the corner of the…
September 20, 2022
Poetry Peter Greenhall

Tribute to Queen Elizabeth II. RIP.

As you lay you to rest, in your final state, Westminster, UK, The World, Demonstrate, Your purpose, Your sense of duty, Was clear to see, Let's not forget, your family As time ticks towards the eleventh hour of the day, The funeral, The service, Melancholy. A…
September 20, 2022
Crime Stories Peter Greenhall

Naughty Boy Series: Chapter 8. Stamping Authority

 This was it, it was now or never. He knew this day was coming, he'd have to fight 'Big Ryan', the guy everyone said couldn't be beat. They all walked out of his apartment, all serious faced, not knowing if the fight would spill over and some of 'Big Ryan's'…
September 20, 2022
Flash Fiction Ava

Emotional Unstable

IS THERE ANY PLACE THAT I CAN STUDY IN? “Breakfast time.” White toasts with a slice of cucumber, a slice of tomato, half spoon of orange marmalade and a vegan sausage. A boiled egg. Granola with yoghurt with granola with yoghurt with corn flakes. A glass of…

Three hours… Three hours had passed, and Tony was becoming increasingly anxious.

"HEYY!"  His voice rang out through the valley.

"HHEEYYYYYYY!?"  It was pointless, and Tony knew it.

The only signs of life were the stars, and as beautiful as they were, those glistening balls of gas offered no solution to his situation.

As he lay there, in a tangled mess of rubber, and scrap metal, he could not help but laugh; his parents were right, he had been the cause of his own demise.

 

The turning point of Tony’s life had began less than twelve months ago, when an impending realization had occurred, after suffering a debilitating injury.  Spending six months essentially sedentary, excluding the frequent trips to the hospital.  Months spent lying in his bed, sprawled on the couch, or slumped on the floor had taken their toll on his mental state.  Tony figured he was just going through a rough patch; however, his General Practitioner disagreed, slipping a wad of prescription pads in his hand as he ushered Tony and his crutches out of his office.

 

“What is wrong with me?” He wondered.
“Why is this happening to me?” Anxious thoughts jostling about, which he seemed to have all but lost control of.  It was a clear Tuesday afternoon in late April, the sun cast long dark shadows across the concrete jungle.  The light piercing Tony’s eyes through the spaces between the buildings brought back fond memories of family camping trips, playing flashlight tag, and the sweet crackle of a perfectly roasted marshmallow.  Tony had paused in an opening next to a used car dealership, reminiscing of simpler times.

BEEEP BEEEEP
“Woodstock was 35 years ago ya hippie!” An obscenity yelled from a passing car quickly brought him back to reality.  There would be no more family camping trips, and things in life were becoming increasingly complicated by the day.

 

Glancing down at his watch, Tony figured he had about thirty minutes of daylight left.  Quickly doing the math in his head, he set off toward the chemist at a pace he felt he had not travelled at in many months.  I’m going to open her up, see what these babies can do! He thought, laughing at the quote from one of his favourite movies.  As he neared the chemist, his heart skipped a beat as he contemplated what kind of drugs are they giving me today?

“Hi there, I have these scripts I need filled please.”  The lady behind the counter approached cautiously, inspecting every inch of his person,
“Certainly young man, and do you have some form of photo identification on you?”  Her pitch seemed to waver as she spoke,
“I do.” He quickly replied,
“Could I see it then?”
“Why do you need to see my ID?  My name is written on all four of those scripts.” It had been a long day, and Tony just wanted to be back home, resting his leg.

The lady behind the counter seemed puzzled, but persisted with her request,
“How on earth are we supposed to know that the name on the scripts matches your name? You could have just nabbed these from someone on the street, God knows what people like you would do to get their hands on these meds.”  She spat back with a stare that pierced Tony like a needle through a nub of warm cheese.  
“Okay… Lady… Maybe next time try speaking in full sentences from the beginning, and we can avoid the embarrassment of you losing it like 2007 Brittney Spears.” Smirking as he handed the chemist clerk his drivers license.
“Take a seat Mr.… Benton” Glancing down at the scripts for a name, “we’ll call you when they’re ready.”

As he slumped into the plastic sofa, a sinking feeling came over him; he knew that he would be waiting for a while.

 

Tony had always been involved in extreme sports, not letting a day of health go by without pushing his limits.  Most recently he had been all engrossed by Downhill Mountain biking.  The idea of a man on a two-wheeled horse, traversing the nooks and crannies of a mountainside with immense speed appealed to his adventurous side.  The images of his first and only trip on his new bike flashed through his mind; it was at that point he knew he would have to overcome the mountain that stole the last nine months of his life.

 

Everybody he spoke to said that he was crazy, that he had finally gone and lost his marbles.

 

Ring Ring
Answering his phone without a thought to check who was on the other end, he was assaulted with a familiar voice,

“Now listen here Tone.” A name that only one person had ever called him.
“I hear you’re in a bit of a bad way.  Nine months trapped inside a dusty old house’ll do that to a bloke, y’ know.”  Uncle Joe was the self-proclaimed family psychiatrist, graduating from the University of Uncle Joe, with a Bachelor of life in 2003.
“He’s just like his father was at that age…  Young, dumb and full of completely stupid ideas… He’s gonna get himself killed that boy.”  He heard Aunt Rita chime in from the background.  
“Listen Joe, this isn’t something that I am considering doing, or something that I might do if the weather permits.  This is something that, if I don’t do it, I may not ever be myself again.  I know that you, Rita, hell even Mum ‘n Dad think I’m crazy.  But I have a conviction that a life lived in fear is a life half lived, and that is not how I want to spend my days on this Earth.” There was silence.

“Tone.”

“Tone!  Ya still there?” 
“Yes, Joe, what? Clenching his eyes to stem the impending onslaught of tears.

“Your Mother, your Father, they said if you ever answered our call, to tell you they love you.” Tony couldn’t hold the floodgates any longer, and tears burst forth.  “They are scared that you are turning into your own judge, jury, and executioner.  Don’t make the same mistakes that your Father did.”  Echoed silence rang out over the phone line.
“You’ll see Uncle…”

CLICK

BEEP BEEP BEEP

End

Lachlan is a budding young writer, who's biggest struggle is finding time to put pen to paper. Spending his time studying, working, or out and about Brisbane, Australia.  Still relatively new to the writing game, we look forward to future instalments.

 

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