We saw the same sky
We saw the same sky was first published in Overland 218, Autumn 2015.
‘You are not going to make it to Australia,’ the Minister had told the Clients. ‘Not even in your dreams.’
Iridescence – clarity
The Lane of Unusual Traders is a great project from Tiny Owl Workshop, a small publisher in Brisbane doing all kinds of interesting things with – in particular – illustrated speculative fiction. Chris White has created a world, the City of Lind, and writers have been encouraged to submit small stories which take place in this world.
‘Please,’ Sal begged.
‘Mate.’ Iri was only half listening now – he had accounts to check. ‘I already told you we don’t do replacements.’
‘But I…’
In Registry
In Registry was first published by Sleepers in 2009 in the collection Sleepers Almanac 5.
‘Did I tell you about the time everyone on my train was reading the same book?’ I said, but Steve wasn’t listening.
‘I said,’ I said, and he told me he heard what I said but that there was never a time when everyone on my train was reading the same book, and he was sick of hearing about my imaginary stories.
Instructions for an installation
Instructions for an installation was first published by Cardigan Press in 2003, in the collection ‘Normal service will resume’.
‘Here,’ he told me. ‘These are the taste buds for fear. These ones taste jasmine when it’s cold outside but the flowers think it’s warm. These ones are for the times while you wait for your friends to finish saying their goodbyes; the times you know the bus is coming but they just don’t care enough to wind up, to say “Hey, I’ve got to go. The bus is coming.” These ones taste oily grit under your fingernails when you’re looking in the bottom of your bag for 50 cents, but can only find 10. They taste what it’s like when the phone is there in front of you and all you have is the weight of 10 cents in your hand.’
A dynasty of square standers
A dynasty of square standers was first published by Vignette Press/Mini Shots in 2008. It later morphed into the novel, A wrong turn at the Office of Unmade Lists.
We set fire to the shrivelled Christmas tree and we squat by the edge of the basketball court to watch it burn. It’s starting to rain so I turn my collar up to stop the water dripping down my neck. From a pub behind us I can hear football – it’s getting colder and I guess cricket season must be over by now.