“Donuts! I want donuts!” my teenage body screamed. Fresh baked donuts with cinnamon sugar on top. Hot donuts that burnt the inside of my mouth.Read more "Donuts on Phillip Island"
After taking off my cloak, I hooked the cloth in the crook of my elbow and charged through after her.
Several beings, solidly built but half my height, greeted us.
I froze. ‘Wh-what are they? Munchkins?’
‘Meet the “Morphans”, Holly,’ Commander D replied. ‘They won’t bite.’
With pleading eyes and stretching out their hands holding bowls, the “Morphans” cried, ‘Food! Food! Food!’
Ten minutes later, Dad dragged himself over the last ridge and limped to the summit. There, he sat on a rock and rubbed his knee. ‘O-o-oh!’ He inspected the damage, red and swollen. ‘I tripped and fell on my knee. I hope I can get down alright.’
‘You better,’ C1 laughed. ‘You can’t exactly camp up here.’
The viewer showed a mass of black-brown lumps. The stench like rotting fish stung my nostrils.
I sniffed. ‘Can you smell that?’
‘What smell?’ The Commander remained unaffected by any smell.
‘The rotting fish smell.’ I put a handkerchief up to my nose and mouth. My eyes streamed. I gagged. ‘Sure the Storm hasn’t cracked…’
A rock slid from under me and I scudded down the slope. Grabbing a gnarly stump, I dug my heels into the dirt. Then looked down. Beneath my feet, nothing.Read more "Trekking With the T-Team: MacGorgeous!!!"
‘It’s the pollution. I must warn you about this planet. The laws on this planet are, that there are no laws. Every man does as he sees fit, to quote the Bible. When I read about Sodom and Gomorrah, I think of this planet,’ the Commander added. ‘Remember your spiritual armour, you will need it. And don’t forget your guardian angels, too. And whatever you do, stick by me, don’t go wandering off on your own—it’s a demonic jungle out there.’Read more "Out of the Chocolate Box (57)"
Driver picked her crowded teeth with the end of a paper clip.
We sat at the bridge of the “Storm”, a small craft, but we did nothing, and the computer did everything: Navigation, piloting, maintenance—you name it, the machine did it, even serving tea and coffee.
‘I suppose a hundred years has passed back there,’ I said.
‘Oh, no my dear, nothing like that! Time doesn’t pass that quickly.’ Driver corrected. ‘Only a few months really.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said the manager, ‘we don’t take VISA. Only MasterCard.’
‘What?’ But we were counting on our VISA to cover the costs.
We scraped together the cash amount for the three-nights of accommodation and emptied our wallets of all but a few notes. Romantic dinners in the restaurant, off our menu. The longed-for Ridge-Top Tour, off our track. Then cold hard panic struck, how were we to pay for petrol when we returned to Adelaide?