Prose

Whistling Babas

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.

8 October 2019
I Can’t Stop Talking About Cold Chisel and it’s Turning My Friends Against Me

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 Remarkable Quests of Raddish and Quill: The Sea-Venture

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

6 August 2019
Lemon or Lime

It was your birthday drinks last time her arm was around you. It’s only been three weeks since then, you were in Fitzroy at yet another rooftop bar, basking in the suburban sunset. Your gift came in a plastic shopping bag.

The Fairytale Gazette

After damning allegations that Red Riding Hood left her missing grandmother to fend for herself in the woods, she has now pronounced that her grandmother has been found dead at the edge of the woods.

Murukami’s Nightmare (808s & Fantasy Vol. 2)

Murukami sits in a sole green bog in an ashen wasteland, knees pinned to ground by rusting nails. His arms, detached, caress and cradle his head as an acid wind blows harshly.

A Thing with Feathers: Part 5

You’re reading Hellboy in Hell—cornered in a pocket of the Brunswick library—the collected trade paperback of the original comics run. Hellboy is in Hell, because. He falls as a beating heart through the mouth of a petrified giant.

The Remarkable Quests of Raddish and Quill: The Spontaneous Flight to Iceland

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

20 June 2019
This is a story about a woman eating her husband’s liver.

I want to say that death is just a wound things grow around and that I Miss the way the world tasted back then, before life touched me like that, Cold Finger pressed to my Tongue; hurts like freezer-burn, tastes like freezer-burn.

Masters Hold a Meeting Over Wine

“Do you have wine?” Rebuffed inquired in a raspy voice.“No,” replied Oost. “Why? Should I?”Rebuffed inclined her head. “I just assumed.”Oost was silent for a time, perplexed. Rebuffed filled the space: “You know. Since we’re here.”

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