‘You’re on it!’ ‘Are you sure?’ My voice trembles and sweat clings to my palms. I don’t have the guts to check the list myself, not after last year’s disappointment. ‘It says it right here, “Rose Adamson”.’ My best friend, Jill, jabs at the computer screen with her shellac nails, decorated with tiny Christmas trees. I dare to take a …
‘Supervisor!’ The officious sounding voice rings out over the incessant dinging of the bell on the counter. I pop my head over the top of the cubicle, startled to find my shire council colleagues have vanished into thin air. ‘You there,’ the owner of the voice points at me. Other words follow at breakneck speed but they’re lost on me. …
“An adventure into the unknown,” my friends said, “it will be fun”. They lied. I’m not sure why I agreed to it. I had lived all of my 41 years in the safety zone, always colouring inside the lines and never straying too far from my creature comforts of home. The riskiest thing I’d ever done was order my jungle …
The following flash fiction story was shortlisted in the Australian Writers’ Centre’s Furious Fiction contest a little while ago. We were given half a dozen descriptive prompts to include, such as, ‘cold and greasy’. I hope you enjoy it. ‘Sweet and pungent,’ he says with authority before sloshing the wine around his mouth. In fervent concentration, his eyebrows dart around …
Not many people can pull off the colour orange, except maybe Isla Fisher in those ING ads and an oompa loompa. I was neither of them but I’d left my Halloween costume to the last minute. As I yank down the rising hem I curse whoever designed this bloated sack-dress masquerading as a pumpkin. Tanya had insisted I attend her American cousin’s “legendary” Halloween party. I had reluctantly agreed to pop in after I finished the late shift at …
‘Look she’s doing it again.’ It was psychology major uni-girl. She doesn’t think I can hear her. I fold and re-fold my T-shirt for the fifth time until just the right amount of Ravenclaw crest is visible. ‘Definitely on the spectrum,’ nervous-laugh-wants-to-impress-her-friend, other uni-girl, declares. They stuff their collection of still damp skinny jeans into a $9 Kmart overnight bag and leave. The laundromat is filled with the regular mix of middle-aged single men, …
Another freakin’ candle. How many was that now? I’d lost count after the eleventh one. I read the embossed label. Leather and cedar infusion – what the…? “Okay, candle. Thank you for…I don’t know what, and goodbye.” I chuck the candle into the donation box. I was nearly finished with the fourth KonMari category, komono, or miscellaneous items. Now you won’t find any Instagram posts of my perfect rows of underwear and fitting sheets standing to attention in their origami-like …
New. “Today is the start of the new you.” My mother’s words are an earworm burrowing into my mind. What’s wrong with the old me? In the mirror she stares at me, daring me to defy her. My inner voice screams to defend the current me. My mother flashes me a Sale of the Century model smile, and I stay …