Solitude has it’s own rewards

Keith turned his gas bottle on, lit the flame on his camp stove, poured a slurp of peanut oil into his wok and, after feeding a couple of pieces to Arfer his German Shepherd, added the diced meat he’d had marinating overnight. When it had browned, he added the sliced vegetables and gave the wok …

Lost Childhood and Journey To The Top

These pieces were written for the Six Story Challenge, with the prompt word of 'lost'. Two pieces this week, one serious, one-light-hearted. Lost childhood The family had stopped by the side of the road to have a picnic and pick wild blackberries that would fill pies and jam jars. The father could reach the highest …

Tales from the roadie – You learn to smell it

In my late teens and early twenties I was a roadie for several largely forgettable rock bands and, along the way, I had experiences that varied from the joyous to the pits but largely mundane, as with most jobs. This is one of the tales of that time. This was a new band I was …

Evil is as Evil does

Keith Neville derived his nickname of Evil from Evil Knievel, being a play on ‘Evil’ K. Neville. He was a long-haul truck driver whose invariable appearance consisted of baggy khaki shorts, sleeveless shirt exposing a myriad of tattoos on his arms, and once-white socks arising from Blundstone workers boots. One day he arrived home to …

Esau was an hairy man

This piece was written for the Six Sentence Challenge, with the prompt word of 'blanket'. ‘Esau, why are you wearing that hair shirt?’ ‘Because, Jacob, I must make penitence for saying some hairy things that entered the ears of my enemies and then got up their nose.’ ‘But Esau, with you already being an hairy …

Milan – The ego hit and other memories

Note: Milan was a real person I knew in my twenties but I have changed his name and some other details out of respect for his memory and out of fear of being sued by any living relatives unbeknown to me. 😉 Milan was a painter. His parents were Slovakian, immigrants to Australia after WWII. …

She said, he said

Blake had been directed to meet with the CEO of the Department of Community Services at 9 a.m. sharp. He arrived early and saw Tarnie, her PA, clearing away the detritus of the previous afternoon’s after-work-drinks session. These sessions were notoriously attended by those still ambitious or naïve enough to not realise that every word …

Grumps and India

As the rain bucketed down on the tin roof, Arfer, the German Shepherd, let out a slight woof and headed for the front door. Nicholas launched himself slowly from his armchair and responded to the insistent banging. As he opened it, his grand-daughter, India, barged through, almost knocking him over with the backpack on her …

Vivid memories

This is a revised version of a story I originally posted almost a year ago. ‘If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is: Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.’ From William Blake’s poem, ‘The Marriage …

Sister doing it for herself

Anna had made several calls to her sister and left messages, without success. Finally Gemma answered. ‘Hi, sis. What’s happening?’ Anna paused and took a deep breath before saying ‘Mum’s gone.’ Gemma’s vocal fry voice responded ‘Oh my God, when?’ ‘Not that it matters but a couple of hours ago.’ Gemma, seemingly shocked, said ‘What …