FARRAGO

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

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.

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.

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.

Chris Martin’s thin lips glisten under the stage lights as he succinctly delivers the monologue.

The room could sense something different about this body. Different, but not unfamiliar. It could feel the body’s heartbeat echoing through the soles of their feet, casting shockwaves up the walls.

In Greek myth Thanatos, the god of death, was said to be as beautiful as Eros. Death could be like having a love arrow shot in you—but what do you focus on?

When night approached, I would sit near my window while watching the night sky in hopes of seeing the origin of the sound but I never did.

All that matters in life is Jimmy Barnes, nineteenth-century lesbians, and the three boxes of Cheerios I clutch to my chest in the car park at Coles. Woolworths didn’t have them in stock so I had to drive to the next suburb.

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