Category: Very Short Story

I

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I watch you walk into the room;
you are a beautiful masquerade.

A confident air hangs around you,
for you have never known “No”.

I watch you stand and sit so well,
then give me a look of disgust.

The player amongst many players,
you are an amusement to watch.

I sit and wait for the hammer to fall,
it doesn’t, and I wonder when it will.

A fault in that elegant demeanour shows,
for one man sees behind the masquerade.

I see you frown and flinch at his words,
then recede into the shadows tonight.

An entertaining amusement for the sick,
I take no pleasure in seeing you fall.

Tonight I will sit and wait for you to return;
so many lessons to learn, sweet daughter.

Sea of Starlight

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In the middle of burnt dirt
with the odd Mulga
lookin’ like unbrushed hair.

We don’t dare fan the flames
of the dead ones
out here in this no law land.

In burning heat, we suffer
through thoughts
muddled into dirt and sky.

We wish for cold grey skies
with kept trees
lookin’ like English Butlers.

In the outback, we wonder
about the dead
as the daylight turns to night.

We stand sipping hot water
with muddled
feelings about this old land.

Outside we look towards the
sea of starlight
in this dark open landscape.

We remove all traces of the
spaces between
us as we finally understand.

A Foreign Memory

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The sound of an Oud moves a foreign memory to the fore of your mind as you walk through the streets of a foreign town as a foreigner.

They look at you with different coloured eyes, yet you look at them with the eyes of a person unseasoned in the ways of the world.

The smell of Rose Water, Orange Blossom, and mint tea reminds you of another memory from before you were who you appear to be now.

A market tempts you to buy material possessions you thought you would never own, as something about the items takes you back.

The touch of a warm breeze moves your legs towards a place of Olive and Oleander, as the memory becomes a reality and you know

why you came to this place.

A Darkening Room

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The light begins to take cover under a sea of clouds;
the clouds move closer and grower darker and darker.

I keep the light off in my room, waiting for the rain to
begin, and hoping for the chance to show you a photo.

You are stuck in North Queensland being burnt by the
sun every day; I sit here in the cold, wet winter I love.

The night creeps closer, and the sky becomes darker,
as the rain starts to fall and move down the window.

I take a series of photos, then send my best one to you,
although I think you will say the weather is yucky again.

The night sets in. I imagine you out and about in the
garden, talking to the neighbour or cooking dinner for two.

You stay locked in North Queensland, and I stay locked in
Gippsland, as we wait for the chance to hug and kiss again.

The light is a faded memory on the horizon, as twilight loses
to the night and the absence of moon and stars leaves only
the reflection of someone I should know better in the window.

Ochre Afternoon

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The blind moves as the breeze flows through the window.

I can see the change sun rays make on my skin, as my arms colour and look like desert sand.

The sun casts rays across the backyard as the cobwebs move and drift between grass, weeds, and the fence, and the bees dance on the weed flowers.

A song from the crickets, birds, a few flies, and the next-door neighbour’s air-conditioner puts my mind to sleep as I soak up the last light of the day.

A change in tempo is on the breeze as the afternoon drifts into twilight, and the time for sweet, soft days of washing going stiff on the line ends.

The heat turns into the warmth of another ending, another night; I won’t miss what I no longer have on this sunlit day, for the night is bright, and the stars are many.

One song ends, and another is ready to begin, so I fight with the pegs and the stiff washing, waiting for the first fresh Autumn day.

A Hole in the Brick Wall

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Walking towards work; dreaming about being rich, staying in bed, champers for breakfast, bending our legs together, and trying out the waffle maker.

Reality floods back and I realise my skirt is too tight; the Covid Spread, like a Biscoff addiction, gone wrong, has me in its hold.

Walking down the ally towards the office, noticing the Passion Pop bottles placed randomly near the old broken door, and feeling university nostalgia coming on like an awkward chance meeting.

Turning back, I see the brick wall, and a door leading to more bricks, pipes, a hidy hole for one. A cat passes over there looking for food in the bins, and I feel sad; humans shit me sometimes.

Standing in an ally, hoping no cars come by to take me from my thoughts, and staring into the magical Dandewrong wall portal, hoping it will take me to another dimension; away from the grind.

Nothing happens. It is a hole in the wall, and nothing more. Then I look again and think this is only a reminder of the crumbling history we once knew. Crumbling history before our eyes, as this place becomes something else.