Prose

Dear Hope

18/08/2020 Dear Hope, “If you can hear me don’t go/I don’t really feel you now/but I know you’re there…” My therapist told me I should write a letter to you. It’s been three years without you and I still don’t know how to move on. This year has been the second-worst year ever. You’re so […]

4 November 2020
Masterpiece in Retrograde

Dusk nights upon dreary bushfires. I wait holding a crystal glass, filled two thirds the colour of the sky. Your charcoal fingers knock on the door, leaving ash on oak. Avant-garde Miscreant is how you signed your works. My house is now a gilded frame. The floor of sketches, the walls of colour theory, the […]

29 October 2020
Hum, thrum

I’ve always lived in the eastern suburbs. Where I live, there’s these hills with TV towers on them that loom over suburbia. No matter where you are, you can see them from almost every point. And they have this permanent electric thrumming sound—an unrelenting suburban melody. The persistence of the hills, with their watchful eyes […]

The Fairytale Gazette: Part 7

Murder and general mayhem sound just like your good old-fashioned fairy tales, something left behind in the myths and legends that belong in forgotten derelict book-shelves. Beware sensationalism but the reality is that it’s all just life, kids.

3 December 2019
A Thing with Feathers: Part 7

There’s an attic which is filled with what could be imagined for Emily Dickinson, her backstory and personality upon finding herself in an Alice-in-Wonderland style scenario. I imagine those things with a thin film of dust, and the windows open to the huge clouds.

See You Later, Space Cowboy

The words resonate as they pass through Annalise’s sunken mind but like a shooting star; disappearing into the void as quickly as they came.

28 November 2019
The Remarkable Quests of Raddish and Quill: An Unexpected Dinner Guest

The University of Melbourne’s Creative Literature and Writing Society present The Remarkable Quests of Raddish and Quill, a collaborative column for Farrago.

8 October 2019
The Lighthouse and the Mechanic

The two of us still pretending to be butterflies, holed up in our terraced cocoon for weeks watching the fists of clouds paint the sky winter white.

Secret Servings

My mother is in the kitchen, a tiny moving blur amongst maroon teak cabinets. Sunlight is pouring in and I am bent over my homework, scribbling away to glory, when I cough.

The Fairytale Gazette: Part 6

Murder and general mayhem sound just like your good old-fashioned fairy tales, something left behind in the myths and legends that belong in forgotten derelict book-shelves. Beware sensationalism but the reality is that it’s all just life, kids.

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