‘Farmers’ Market?’ The local shrugged. ‘Haven’t had one of those in decades. Food’s all replicated from China. Why would we have a market?’
After my damper and jam, then washing dishes, I ventured west crossing the Algebuckina Bridge. The creek bed appeared all dried up; the water absorbed beneath the surface.Read more "Shallow…Or Not So Shallow"
Dan gasped. I guess Walter Wenke wouldn’t be the first white man to come to the Centre with good intentions and baggage. Dan became cold all over. Maybe not good intentions. Maybe not a man at all…Read more "Lost World of the Wends (24)"
I recalled the old Mazda my Dad bought for a bargain because its rear had been damaged. The engine worked alright. Good for a new and inexperienced driver as I was back then…except the ol’ bomb with the dodgy back was a police-magnet.Read more "Monday Missive"
As the morning progressed and plans for Glen Helen stalled in Dad’s indecision, I slouched on the lounge chair and watched him bustle about, walking back and forth, across the lounge room carpet, out to the Rover, back in with stuff in hand and stamping across the lounge room, through the kitchen, clunking around in the guest room, then back through kitchen, through the lounge room, out to the Rover and so he went to and fro’ for at least an hour.Read more "Fried Indecision"
Dan Hooper rolled his eyes. ‘Is this another one of your stories?’
‘No, it’s real.’
‘Is this the same cockroach man who you say took the bus load of tourists away to the land of flying insects?’
Mr. A glared at me over his spectacles. ‘Sit down, Mrs. K.’
I sat on the edge of the seat opposite Mr. A, so distant at the other end of his massive desk. Miss. N perched on a chair at my side.
‘We’ve had some complaints about you, Mrs. K,’ the Principal said.