writer | editor | artist
Personal writing challenge in which I attempt to write a new piece (almost) every day. Each one 200 words.
Well … yes, I know. I took a little break over the Christmas/New Year period. I hope you did, too. But here’s a little something to kick of 2015. Jane Austen’s Sophia reproached her brother, Frederick, in Persuasion, saying that, “none of us expect to be in smooth waters all our days.” This, after Frederick claimed he…
This piece is the second guest contribution from Maria Arena: you may have already read and delighted in her earlier piece Terminus Pty Ltd. Maria’s most recent book is a young adult horror novel, Sisterhood. You can find out more about Maria and her work by visiting her online. The dressing gown catches your eye first: greying-pink,…
Follow me; this is where we were always headed. Into the darkness, into the forest. There is a stone in my pocket, but we have not come here to drown. In the distance, I hear the wolves. They do not howl; their feet pad lightly on the snow.I loved you once, but this is worse. This walking ahead into…
Today’s marvellously creepy guest post in the 200 words/200 days series is by the fabulous Lucy Sussex. Lucy is a wonderful writer, and a multiple award winner, with Ditmar and Aurealis Awards littering the shelves of her hideaway. In 2003, Lucy was awarded the A Bertram Chandler award, an award for “Outstanding Achievement in Australian…
This GUEST POST in the 200 words/200 days series is brought to you by the lovely and talented Ms Maria Arena. I’ve written about Maria’s most recent book, a young adult horror novel, Sisterhood before. After you’ve read this lovely taster of her deep, broad talent, you should visit her online, where you can read more about…
When I was young I thought I understood everything. I thought I knew what pain was, and what to do with it, how to recover from it. I thought I knew what it would mean to bear a child, and raise them, and love them. I didn’t know enough to be frightened by the fragility of the hearts…
Eventually, someone you love will stop loving you. You can only imagine what will happen next. You will stand with your back against the wall in an empty room. Sliding down the wall. Sliding down until you are folded like a mirror of the letter N: your back a stem, your thighs a stroke, your shins a second stem….
H had a small, strong body and a pixie haircut. Wisps of gold on the back of their neck, on their cheeks. I met H at their home in the low hills out the back of the Gold Coast when I was a uni student. We went there to trade our labour for food and knowledge. We…
The woman in the plane seat next to me looks uncomfortable. She has the kind of short, sparse hairstyle I associate with those receiving chemotherapy, or living in a concentration camp. I can see the paleness of her barely-protected scalp. She is wearing orthopaedic shoes and has a large, well-filled handbag. As the other passengers…
The architect comes into my office smiling, a woven basket on her arm. Greenery – wild and fragrant – spills from the basket. It is a hot day, and she sinks gratefully into the spare chair in my office. I should be clear and say that she is no longer an architect, or not a…