Mirror World (7)

I closed the door with a thud and Nick Cowper pressed his remote controller. The noise and the croquet vanished. Cowper twisted his head, and he made no attempt to stop his gaze inspecting me from head to toe and lingering on my breasts. EEYOU! ‘So youse the nanny me betta ‘alf’s employed?’
I stroked my neck and nodded. No wonder Admiral Thumm was concerned. The smell of fermented hops mingled with rank body odour. Tails in a former life and world — Nick Cowper. And he spoke English with a cockney accent.

100-Word Challenge: The Parable of the Toilet Roll

Who would’ve thought the latest pandemic would act as the perfect cover, leading to a run on toilet paper.

Mirror World (6)

I checked the status of the boys. On the swings. Eight-year-old Max mounted higher and higher. Bet he won’t last five minutes before he jumps and scrapes his knees. Liam, six wiggled in his rubber sling. Two minutes before he yells out for a helping push.
‘Are you there?’ Jemima reminded me of her presence on the phone.
‘Yeah, I’m in Fatsgalf Hill, actually at the local park.’ I strode up to Liam and his swing all twisted ready to spring into a spin. Last thing I wanted was a dizzy vomiting boy. We’d left his mother in her interpretation of the “flu”, laid up in bed and bucket standing vigil by the bedside. More like hang-over, if you ask me. I slowly unwound Liam and his swing. ‘What happened to you? Last Sunday you never came, and I’ve been trying to contact you all week.’

Trekking With the T-Team: Hungry at Kings Canyon

Family friend, TR also suffering the pangs of hunger, strummed on the Ukulele singing:
“You can skin me
And eat my bones
I don’t care.
Because I’m hungry.”

Mirror World (5)

‘Aunt Frieda, you’re getting embarrassing.’ I didn’t know where to look. Sure, Uncle Wilhelm shuffled from this life to glory some years ago, but all this sauciness and flirting between the two top Admirals of the IGSF made me shift uncomfortably on my seat. What would Minna, if she were alive, think?

T-Team 1981: The Other Side of Ormiston

Richard (my brother) hobbled past, toilet paper in hand. Then stillness. A parrot squawked. A gust of wind rustled leaves in the gum trees and sent ripples lapping against the pebbles on the shore. I absorbed the peace and coolness.

Mirror World (4)

‘Not a valid number. Please try again. Not a valid number please try again.’ The phone repeated in my ear.
Three meters away sat Kirk, son of Boris. I turned away and then raised the newspaper to my face. Hope he hasn’t seen me. Better still, hope he’s Mirror’s Kirk. My arteries thumped inside my head.

T-Team the Younger–Belair National Park

While our parents reclined on their deckchairs or woollen blankets, nursing their full stomachs of too much cheese sandwiches, bratwurst and apple kuchen, my brother Richard and I asked if we could go for a walk.
‘Don’t go too far,’ Mum said.
‘Don’t get lost,’ Dad said. ‘Look after your little sister.’
‘Yes, I will,’ Richard who had just turned ten said. I was five.

Mirror World (3)

The writing in La Liberté blurred. I’d been putting up with this reverse script for over two years and still I struggled with it. I had to concentrate so hard reading from right to left and all the words reversed as in a mirror (and French!). The only relief, colour print advertisements sponsored by the force behind the newspaper, Hunter Driver. My head ached. Come on Jemima, I’m sick of reading your world’s news.

leeannemarieblog

Australian Artist and Author and her reflections on storytelling, art and life.

Month: March 2020