Short Stories

the dreambound tree

The Dreambound Tree eBook

Memories define our sense of place.  Friends and family do too.

And sometimes, perhaps, a bit of magic

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By the time I was thirteen, I knew I was too old to be sleeping in Mum’s bed. But that didn’t stop me crawling in beside her on that two-inch thick fold-out mattress every second night when I woke slick with sweat from a nightmare.

‘Try to go back to sleep, Maddie,’ Mum’d coo and kiss my hair even though we both knew we’d lie there awake until the alarm chimed at three-thirty and it was time for her to get up for work.

 I never lived in a normal house. Well, I did—once. But I hadn’t since I was seven and we didn’t talk about it or actively remember anything of the life before we left. Since then it’s been caravans or share houses; granny flats in someone’s backyard; or a refurbished old shearer’s shed like the place where we lived now. Mum always told me to be grateful because it was the kindness of strangers and her hard work that kept me clothed and sheltered.

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Short Stories

the carpet cleaner

The Carpet Cleaner eBook (1)

Robert liked his job. Well, most of the time. He didn’t like going to uni student share houses to leech booze and dried vomit off every plush surface the day before a rental inspection; and he didn’t like going to Ms McTavish’s place because she had ten cats and let them pee on the carpet until it was sodden and the house smelt like piss long after he’d shampooed and shampooed it again. He also didn’t like nursing homes, because it was too hard seeing people not that much older than he with defeated expressions on their sunken faces, confined to beds, stuck full of tubes and left to stare at the empty visitors’ chairs in their room all day. No, he didn’t like that at all. As with anything, there were good clients and bad, and the one client Robert loved, more than anything, was Mrs Lavingston. 

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june recap

Where has the month gone?

June has passed in such a blur I’ve lost track of what’s even happened. Seeing as how it’s been a relatively quiet month for me across the board, I’m going to use this recap to look back at the first half of the year as well.

Let’s break it down.

DSC_0148
Out and About: Husband and I chilling at Vivid Sydney.

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Short Stories

writing prompt #001

I always take a shower and two Panadol before I leave home. I do this because trains make me feel dirty and I don’t want to contribute to the filth by setting my sweaty self down on the seat so many others have used before me. The Panadol are for the headache I’ll inevitably get once boarding the rush-hour carriage on my one-hour trudge to work. I repeat this ritual in reverse when I arrive home: shower, Panadol.

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drawing counts as writing, right?

Camp NaNoWriMo July 2015 is underway and I … am already behind.

While I could whip up excuses about how I’m tired and it’s hard balancing a full-time job, an online store, an exercise routine and house work but the fact of the matter is I’m just not focused.

I’m in the middle of a long chapter. A long, important chapter at that. It introduces a key character who has otherwise been absent from the action (referenced, but not seen) and, despite his apparent significance to the story, remains woefully underdeveloped. That makes me a little apprehensive to write. And so, like all mature twenty-something-year-old’s I did what I do best: I procrastinated.

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the countdown is on

One week until Camp NaNoWriMo July 2015 officially gets underway.

I’ve not had much luck with the NaNo experience, having quit partway through last year’s November haul. I made it to the 30k mark on a literary project specifically designed for the event only to label it a monumental piece of shite about two weeks in.

Since devising characters and a world for a fantasy project some thirteen years ago I’ve found it hard to forge attachment to any other story or characters while my original endeavour remains incomplete. I couldn’t make myself care about the characters I wrote for NaNo2014; I wasn’t interested in what they did or why. The whole thing seemed hollow and boring that, even for a first draft, there didn’t seem to be much worth pursuing. So I gave up.

Again.

This year, instead of try and squeeze a new novel out of nowhere, just because I think it has more literary credibility, I’m going to use Camp NaNo to focus on a story I’m actually passionate about. These characters have been with me longer than my oldest friends. I can’t give up on them.

Hopefully I’ll make it more than half way this time.

Fingers crossed.

Short Stories

a table for two



At a table set for two, tucked away in the corner of a restaurant whose name she couldn’t pronounce, Miss Williams slipped into the leather upholstered seat. A crystal pendant light hung low above the table, casting nightmarish shadows from the proud napkin-swans across the white tablecloth as she set down her clutch and keys.

‘Can I get the wine menu for you, Ma’am?’ The waiter asked. He was a tall slick man with not a hair out of place.

‘Actually,’ Miss Williams said with the faintest of smiles, ‘I think champagne might be in order.’

‘Very well, then. I shall bring you our best bottle.’

‘That will be delightful.’ Miss Williams shrugged off her lilac pashmina and draped it across the back of her chair. Her elbow brushed the back of the man sitting behind her. She apologised but the scowl on his face suggested she’d made him spill his drink. Turning back around, Miss Williams took a deep breath to calm the nerves swimming in her stomach.

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