Book Read Free

narratorAUSTRALIA Volume Two

Page 1

by narrator AUSTRALIA




  narratorAUSTRALIA

  Volume Two

  Various Contributors

  November 2012 to April 2013

  A showcase of Australian poets and authors

  who were published on the narratorAUSTRALIA blog

  from November 2012 to April 2013

  First published November 2012 by MoshPit Publishing

  an imprint of Mosher’s Business Support Pty Ltd

  Shop 1, 197 Great Western Highway

  Hazelbrook NSW 2779, Australia

  https://www.moshpitpublishing.com.au/

  This ebook © MoshPit Publishing on behalf of all authors listed in the Index.

  Cover image: Abstract fibers by RBFried, purchased from https://iStockphoto.com

  This book is also available in print. Please visit the narratorAUSTRALIA website for more details.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Copyright Reminder

  Index

  Contributions

  Bios and contact details

  A brief history of narratorAUSTRALIA

  Foreword

  How quickly time passes. Just six months ago we brought you narratorAUSTRALIA Volume One, and now we’re doing it again with Volume Two.

  It’s been a fantastic year watching the narratorAUSTRALIA community grow, watching the participants begin forming online relationships with each other, supporting and encouraging each other to challenge themselves to new and more intricate writing tasks.

  As narratorAUSTRALIA expands and reaches more people, we all learn more and are exposed to more writing styles. This last six months has seen us publish poems based on the Fibonacci sequence as well as our first Decuain poem, not to mention other poems which have been based on different rhyming patterns.

  The volume of weekly entries has increased, as has the standard of competition. When we first started, there were sometimes weeks when I was worried that we would have nothing to publish! Now, we have a fair amount of choice, and the quality of that choice is increasing, which is the aim of the game – to encourage entrants to spit and polish and deliver the very best work they can, whether they have an already established writing career or are in the baby steps of venturing out into the creative writing world.

  Like all publishing companies, we look for work which has a minimum of errors. Because we don’t charge for entries, we don’t have time to edit. And a poorly edited piece is hard to read, anyway. And we look for work which entertains, which makes us sit up and take notice – either with its rhythm, its words, its ideas, its humour or sadness or thoughtfulness. We look for creative writing, and are getting tougher about this. While some of the pieces we publish will occasionally appear to be based on memoir, we discourage memoir and essays per se – we are after creative writing. So if you have something to say in the memoir or opinion vein, be creative about it, or risk missing out to someone who is out to entertain!

  And when we do receive something which really gets through to us, we give it an Editor’s Pick, which you will notice as you read through this volume. However, as was the case with Volume One, there were other pieces which missed out on the Editor’s Pick by a whisker, and this will become more frequent as the overall level of competition improves. So congratulations to all contributors for helping highlight the great standard of creative writing in Australia with this second volume.

  Where pieces are illustrated, these are generally works by the contributor – we are cognisant of not using images which may break copyright, so while a piece may have been illustrated on the blog with an image we can link back to (e.g. from Wikipedia or a free digital images website) we don’t include those images within this book.

  And, as per Volume One, I need to remind you that while we give each piece a light proofread for more obvious errors, and try to format all to a reasonable consistency, time constraints dictate that there will be the occasional issue with spelling, punctuation or grammar. For these I can only apologise, congratulate you for knowing better, and remind you not to make the same mistake when submitting your work to publishers!

  But enough from me. It’s time for you start enjoying this new volume which contains 235 poems and short stories written and submitted by 111 emerging and established writers published at www.narratoraustralia.com.au during the six month period from 1 November 2012 to 30 April 2013. Most items were published at 8 am Sydney time, unless otherwise time stamped.

  So please, turn the page and start reading … and when you have a moment, feel free to visit the website (above) or find us on Facebook and let the writers know if you enjoyed their work, and why.

  And if you feel like submitting to narratorAUSTRALIA yourself one day, we would love to hear from you!

  Thank you for your support of narrator and of the Australian creative writing industry.

  Jennifer Mosher, AE

  Editor-in-Chief

  Copyright reminder

  Please remember that every item in this book is the copyright of the attributed author.

  Please do not even think about plagiarising these works or using them without permission.

  If you wish to gain permission to quote from these works, or to use them elsewhere, then please contact us via our MoshPit Publishing website at www.moshpitpublishing.com.au if you can’t easily find contact details for the author in question.

  The above also applies to the images supplied by the authors to illustrate their artworks.

  Thank you.

  Index

  AB

  The Billet

  The Spirit Of The Thing

  Abecca, Kylie

  Sense Of Life

  Shattered Reflections

  Adamopoulos, Stephanie

  Who Are You Sir?

  Adams, Peter

  A Cruise From Hell

  Anderson, David

  An Unusual Noise

  Cuba

  Maya

  My Friend The Yowie

  Renationship

  Arden, Lynette

  Only

  Arvan, John

  Christmas Performance Report

  Left

  Long Live Johnny

  Wedding Secret

  Assumpter, Irene

  Following Taraji

  Bingham, Leonie

  Over The Fence

  Blackwell, Penny

  The Persian Tanker

  Boko, Armin

  Alice Springs Regatta

  Widow’s Last Son

  Brown, Jadei

  Life Choices

  Puzzle Of Life

  Brown, Laura

  Daisies For My Daisy

  Bruton, Judith

  Paradise

  Slow Burn

  Bundesen, Jean

  Curlews Call

  Raw Cuts

  What A Day!

  Winter Shadows

  Callaghan, Linda

  Reach For The Stars

  Carew, Dominic

  It Will Come

  Chaffey, Robyn

  Behind The Door

  Flitting In The Moonlight

  Lawson’s Inspiration

  Radox Hair

  Cholewa, Pawel

  A Sentimental Cynic

  Concepcion, Miss

  Love’s Destroyer

  Cox, Robert

  Departures

  The Perve Next Door

  Craib, James

  ‘Baffling’ Bill Letts’ Magic Billets

  Bend In The River

  Cardboard Families

  I Left It At Home

  Unholy Futility

  Cumming, Jennie

  Kites And Heart Strings

  Rain

  Davidvee

  Development Games
/>   Passing Over

  The Exercise Book

  De La Force, Julitha

  I Don’t Understand

  The SMSer

  Demelza

  Comments Please!

  It Made A Most Unusual Noise As It Landed

  Multitasking

  Predicate Etiquette

  What I Really Want For Christmas

  Dimitric, Irina

  A Fibonacci Poem For Australia Day

  My Holden Barina

  The Anzac March – A Decuain

  Edgar, Bob

  Angelita

  Forbidden Fruit

  One Lazy Sunday Afternoon

  Ten Seconds Of Light

  The Truth At Last

  Elliott, Hannah Mary

  Holy City

  Elliott-Halls, Sam

  Love Not Lost

  Ellis, Phillip A.

  The Landscape Of New England

  Townsville

  Fermanis-Winward, Michele

  Encounter

  Fielding, Susan

  Ambiguous Loss

  Henry’s Hope

  Fogarty, Naomi

  A Flash Of Red

  The Unspoken

  Freedman, C.G.

  Obituary Notice

  The House At The End Of The Tracks

  Gardiner, Alexander

  A Lang Time Ago

  A Wee Adventure Past

  Possum’s Pride

  Tae A Flea, Wee Courin’ Beastie

  Gibbs, Thomas

  Little Minds

  She Stole My Pen

  The Back Room

  Gibson, Alison

  The Boy On The Tracks

  Girolamo, Hazel

  Caveman

  Gift Of The Grab

  Pride And Presents

  Spirit Of The Sea

  Goodwin, Peter

  Dispatches

  Lacuna

  Govier, Mark

  Ballad Of The Twilight Man

  Extract From Diary Of A Mephisto

  Gow, Virginia

  Burnt Toast

  Downpour

  Shallow Night

  Under The Wharf

  Hall, Emma

  Backwards

  Hammad, Sharon

  Podiatrist

  Slides

  Harrison, Heather

  Bleeding Bark

  Heks, Andris

  Federer vs Murray

  The Third Eye

  Howell, Connie

  Insects

  The Fly

  The Swing

  To Those In Need

  Humphreys, Paul

  Secrets

  Shoreline

  JAC

  In Each Other’s Heart

  James, Nicole

  Big Mumma

  Final Curtain Call

  Tired

  Jamieson, Mariah

  Shiny Diamonds

  Jenkins, David

  Love’s Passing Remembrances

  The White Goddess And The Fisher King

  Johnson, Amber

  Experimental Existential

  Follies Of Formicidae

  Marvellous Words

  Southern Tablelands

  Stockholm Sponge

  Vita Brevis

  Johnston, Henry

  The Conjurers Club

  The Milliner

  Kale, Ashwyn

  An SMS Summer Journal

  Pancakes

  Kathopoulis, Jenny

  Julian And Cecilia

  The Maiden, The Mother And The Crone

  Kay, Susan

  Disconnect

  Flaky

  Saturday

  Kennedy, Rob

  Counting

  La Porte, Judith

  Small Town Boys

  Lee, Crystal

  Masks

  Red Lips

  Lee, Melanie

  Story Of A Girl

  Linn, Marilyn

  Murray Bridge

  The Gravy Train

  Waiting For Him

  Lock, Julie

  Gran’s Billy Lid

  My First Love

  Lutta, Fayroze

  Arrive Singing At Les Folies Bergère

  Mr Harry Morgan

  My Heart Has No Home

  Lynch, Felicity

  Great Aunt Maud

  The Great Grandmother

  Time Remembered

  Mancy, JH

  General Mayhem

  The Creak/Creek On The Stairs

  Mathias, Mikhail

  Let’s Get Metaphysical, Physical

  McCaskill, Ben

  Following

  Piece Of Meat

  McDougall, Garry

  Tribute To Decazeville

  McGloin, Barry

  Adam And Eve’s Lamb, Pork Or Goat With Coriander

  McKern, Kari

  The Daughter Of Durga

  Metcalfe, Carly-Jay

  Redemption Poem

  Want

  Monica, Vita

  A Journey Of Maturity

  Mask

  Murfet, Laura

  Life In The Light

  NaNaG

  Tripping Over Rainbows

  Waiting

  Newman, David

  The Winter And The Rose

  Nickols, Lynn

  It Made A Most Unusual Noise As It Landed

  Summer Storms

  Paton, Toni

  A Gate Ajar

  Every Golfer’s Treasure

  Fly Bys

  Payne, Kaylia

  Norman Nightingale

  Pensable, Des

  The Demon Hunter

  Tits Should Be Out And About

  Pierce, Jill

  Information Simply Given

  Pippi, Miss

  Brighton

  Portingale, Paris

  And Out Of The Darkness Comes – Limbo

  Love And 13 Cossacks

  The Time Travel Machine

  Pratt, Tamara

  Alien Exodus

  His Gift Back

  Rainbow Tornadoes

  Rain, Joanna

  Camping Trip

  Strange Days

  The Black Dog And My Dog Bundy

  Ramsay, Sallie

  Cockie

  Secrets

  Somewhere Else

  Renew, Sandra

  Dissident

  Robertas

  Croak

  Recollection Of My Future

  You Slipped Away

  Ross, John

  Bill’s Visit To The Big Smoke

  The Cave

  The Newcomer

  The Wind

  Saint-Malo, Shey

  Hippolito

  Sargent, Susan

  The Driver

  Satori, Sonia Ursus

  Ode To Life – Prologue

  Scott, Emma-Lee

  A Natural Scape

  Blood And Men

  Of The Mind

  Summer

  Tranquil Darkness

  Shankar, Peter

  Landed

  Speak English Please

  Singer, Ariette

  Barbra Streisand Would Love This!

  Discriminating Cupids

  Smith, Winsome

  A Lucky Find

  Let Down Your Hair

  Selma’s Birthday Present

  Tales The Laundress Told

  Smithers, Alexandra

  Kitty And Father Bob

  Smithers, Shane

  Girl In The Garden

  Stuck On Five

  The Photograph

  Soul, Jessica

  Sonnet Of Love

  Sparks, Graham

  Hypothetical Machine

  I Am Desire

  Shooting Star

  Words For An Omniscient God

  Stanbridge, Deborah

  The Feather

  Walker, Vickie

  The Peacock

  Ward, Ken

  The Headstone

  Wicks, Les

&n
bsp; List Of What’s Left

  Williams, Ian Kennedy

  Hares

  Windsor, Arielle

  An Infatuation With The Semblance Of A Man

  Losing The Chance To Choose

  Withers, Ruth

  Dignity

  Ode To The Fledgling Flown

  Sisterhood

  Wood, Claudia

  Red

  Yates, Linda

  Broken Armour

  Kitchen Meditation

  Of Might And Mouse

  York, Marie

  Solid Oak

  Zaknic, Athena

  Damaged

  To Australia

  Trapped

  Thursday 1 November 2012

  Under The Wharf

  Virginia Gow

  Blackheath, NSW

  Under the wharf fairy penguins are nesting,

  Feeding their babies, despite human noise.

  Watched over and guarded by ancient traditions;

  Vague dreaming of pathways

  Entrenched in genetics.

  This is a billet of survival.

  Is it?

  Under the wharf the wild god is sleeping,

  Clutching a crumpled photograph in chilled hands.

  Lost in a maze of human suffering,

  Searching for freedom.

  Fear to go there!

  This is a billet of survival.

  Is it?

  Under the wharf poison is seeping,

  Creeping out of fuel tanks

  Driving all insane.

  Bottled up fortification,

  Craving companionship!

  This is a billet of survival.

  Is it?

  Friday 2 November 2012

  Holy City

  Hannah Mary Elliott

  Southport, QLD

  Not the mind but its unfathomable waters

  Listen midafternoon to birds

  Sing joy enough for the whole earth

  A winged parish atop sycamore cathedrals

  Chiming the ineffable essence of being

  Holy river of songs converging and flowing

  Along banks where the cement briar reek

  With the spurned carcass of consumerism

  In man's temple of metallic shrines and

  Carcinogen incense

  Compassion still clings

  Blades of her green hand reach out

  From cracked geometry

  One can find sprawling the obsequious tarmac

  The ancient ones

  Stray wisdom in a stone

  A few trees

  Some monks of verdancy left

  Bend reverently to the wind

  Saturday 3 November 2012

  Story Of A Girl

  Melanie Lee

  Avoca Beach, NSW

  This is the story of a girl who lived in a world where all was not fair or right or just too much of the time, but still there was laughter and still there was joy.

  For along the way and in her travels she had learned quite a few valuable lessons, one in particular being that which brings you down cannot keep you down, unless you allow it, and that you cannot hold another down unless you stay down with them.

  She learned most lessons the hard way and in doing so learned that pain can be a gift that allows you to see more humbly and deeply into the hearts and souls of others.

  She learned that sometimes life’s most treasured gifts often come in the most unwelcome packages.

  She came to understand that it is letting go that requires the greatest strength.

  She came to understand that not getting what it is you think you want, can bring about a greater joy than you anticipated or dreamed.

  She discovered that the happiness she sought was closer to home than she realised.

  She learned that loving someone sometimes isn’t always easy but that it shouldn’t always be hard.

  Sadly she learned that you can’t always be with the one you love and that you don’t always love the one you are with.

  She learned that too often it was the people who she thought were supposed to love and care about her the most were the ones that caused the most pain.

  She learned and valued that acceptance really was the answer to many problems, discovering it’s more important to be who you are, than to worry about what you are.

  She understood that possessions ought never replace the value of people, things are replaceable, people are not.

  Although she lived in a world of extravagance, she learned that less is more. She came to believe that happiness truly was a means of travel and not a destination.

  She discovered that hope really is the jewel of life and that when everyone else has given up, when all else fails, hope will find a way.

  She saw that some people’s fears haunted them more than actual events. She saw that many people around her stumbled over the truth every now and then, but most picked themselves up and brushed themselves of as if nothing had happened.

  She learned not to fear her darkness for she had discovered that some things only show up in the dark and that is where the light shines the brightest.

  She realised people come and go but feelings do remain and that there could be great healing on the other side of great suffering.

  She learned that being alone and feeling lonely were two different things.

  She discovered that there is always another way and that she would never have known the joy of finding her self if she hadn’t got lost.

  She found that sometimes the answer to the problem created an even bigger problem.

  She came to understand that there is great relief and freedom in forgiveness but that it is a journey in itself to get there.

  She realised that she was never able to un-love that man, discovering that it really is true, it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

  She learned that surrender is often a sign of great strength, as is gentleness.

  She came to the understanding that there was a difference between loving someone because you need them and needing someone because you love them.

  She discovered it takes courage to remain true to yourself and that sometimes you have to be willing to let go of everything you think you have to hold onto yourself.

  Then she lived …

  Sunday 4 November 2012 1 pm

  Tranquil Darkness

  Emma-Lee Scott

  Callaghan, NSW

  Cracked pavement of dirty grey,

  Aging tree trunks of deep strength

  And cloudless sky filled with a sweet peace.

  An ebbing quiet filtered by the night,

  With gentle breeze,

  And an embracing darkness.

  A space of nature’s virtue,

  Heightened by the hour,

  Hiding the unearthly that encroaches.

  When eyes need not be shielded,

  When senses are intensified,

  When the night reigns supreme.

  The trespassers have disappeared,

  The moon has fallen,

  All that is, is nothingness.

  It is the call of the night,

  When we have silently been enchanted,

  By its peaceful freedom.

  The room to let our minds roam,

  Without the broken thought,

  And the obtrusive day.

  It is the tranquil time,

  When we feel what we see,

  And truly just be.

  Monday 5 November 2012

  I Don’t Understand

  Julitha De La Force

  Katoomba, NSW

  Why did you say I was your girl

  And you were my man

  Then vanish in a whirl?

  I don’t understand?

  ‘It has to be a secret,’ you said

  ‘Nobody can know what we did,’ you said

  Those phrases keep going round and round

  In my head

  You told me I was cute


  You said I was a real sweetie

  You called me sweetheart and darling

  So I don’t understand why

  It seems to have become nothing

  I was freezing, shivering, asked you

  If you had an electric blanket on this thing

  You wrapped your arms around me saying,

  ‘I’ll be your electric blanket darling’

  Was it really just a one night stand?

  It felt like more to me than a one night stand.

  I’m sitting here hurting because …

  I don’t understand

  Tuesday 6 November 2012

  Tired

  Nicole James

  Narrandera, NSW

  Tired, tired of going on

  I’ve lost all reason and will,

  Tired of facing another day

  In a time that stands so still.

  I see peace when I close my eyes,

  When I imagine myself to be dead,

  I see no hunger left to live

  Within a world so full of dread.

  I think never of heaven or hell,

  I seek no paradise or evil retreat,

  All I want is to close my eyes on life,

  For my sentence to be complete.

  I hold my life in my palm,

  To live or to let me die,

  With this decision I always struggle,

  It’s so hard and I’m unsure why.

  Pulled in so many directions

  With no power to pull away,

  I hope when I close my eyes tonight,

  I don’t have to wake to another day.

   

  Wednesday 7 November 2012

  Adam And Eve’s Lamb, Pork Or Goat With Coriander

  Barry McGloin

  Holder, ACT

  And it came to pass that Adam and Eve sat on a goatskin, huddled naked in a cave. They shuddered from the sounds of the Lord God Jehovah’s wrath as it rained into the valley splitting trees and hurtling boulders. Adam could smell Eve’s hair, feel her cold skin, and verily he could feel her tremors.

  They did not comprehend Jehovah’s words nor the reason for His anger. They were dismayed but aware that it had been caused by their new feelings for each other as they had become one within the beauty of their garden, its glorious warmth and succour.

  They had not eaten an apple from the Tree of Knowledge. But they had made love. They were young, in fact they were all the company they had, apart from The Lord who was away mostly. There was no serpent. The serpent was a metaphor. The author of Genesis knew that the words would be read to the children of Israel.

  They had made love for a whole week, following some exploratory fumbles, while The Lord was away. He hadn’t told them they could not, well not exactly. He did say that they shouldn’t do anything He wouldn’t do. God was holy. No doubt about it. He wore an air of kindly benevolence. Until He found out. Then He went ballistic.

  They had fallen asleep in Eden. The grass was soft, the sunlight filtered in golden light through the leaves of fig and the aromatic Hasmesh, the doves softly cooed, white goats bleated, and to be frank they were exhausted, but blissfully happy. Then God appeared. They had been naked before but now they were entwined and naked, and they became ashamed in His gaze and tried to cover up with fig leaves. It was mostly ineffective.

  God let out a roar that froze waterfalls, stuck birds to the sky and cleaved a valley. Adam blamed it on Eve and said that he had been tempted. He immediately regretted his words but it was done. God replied that he would put enmity between them, and between Adam’s offspring and hers. This was a bit puzzling but Adam let it go.

  God spoke to Eve and said that he would greatly increase her pains in childbirth. As she had never had children this was another mystery. He also said that her desire would be for her husband and that he would rule over her. God did not foresee womens’ liberation, but hey, that was millenniums later.

  Contemporary Biblical scholars, particularly those who support the theory of Intelligent Design date the ‘Fall of Mankind’ at about 6000BC. The oldest human skeleton is dated at about 4 million. Such discrepancy is dispelled by Faith. Faith is the essence of True Belief. Each religion has its own version of Faith. Faith is a gift from God. There are more gods than you can poke a stick at.

  In his Divine Rage Jehovah ranted that the ground was now cursed, that Adam would painfully toil his days on earth, that weeds would spring up, thorns and thistles, and he would live off the land until he dropped dead and disintegrated to dust. Verily this was a setback.

  In His continuing Divine Rage Jehovah expelled the young couple from the Garden of Eden and placed cherubim and a flaming sword, flashing back and forth, as a deterrent. His words fell like hot cinders on their backs as they stumbled into the valley of darkness. After some time, yea they found a goat trail leading to a cave, where we found them earlier.

  It was stony damp, dark and cold with a whiff of urine and sulphur, and lo and behold a blue fire formed around a rock and a tall slim figure appeared before them. ‘Please allow me to introduce myself. Maximilian Price. Friends call me Max, or Pricey. I imagine you’re both a little upset and a trifle peeved? If it’s any consolation He can be a touch tetchy at times.’

  Max Price carried a suave jaunty air. He was an indeterminate age, strangely neither old nor young in our terms, although Adam and Eve didn’t try to guess his age, after all they had jump started the tribe of Israel yesterday, and had no idea of age; God just looked different …

  Pricey wore a suit of the finest cloth. I say this for your benefit reader, Adam and Eve had no concept of apparel, other than the goat skin God had thrown at them when they parted, which they now sat on. God Himself was sort of luminous.

  ‘This is indeed a pleasure which, incidentally, I have been anticipating for some millenniums past. You must be Adam? Eve? Do call me Max. Max. Yes. Well … you know … you can do all you can to please Him and believe me I have been there, where you are, perplexed by such prima donna behaviour which would indeed try a saint … Ha ha, I mean really what did He expect? He gives you the dangly bits and expects angels? Well there’s the flaw in the design hey? Dangly bits have their own mind ha ha, it is an unrealistic expectation. You guys as the prototype are up the creek without the proverbial if you get my drift hmmm??’

  Adam drew Eve closer.

  ‘Look, I’ll give it to you straight. The Lord says I’m not to be trusted – if He’s likely to impart any advice that is … once he’s over His huff, heh heh … He will tell you that I’m a black angel who was once his favourite but got ambitious for the top job, well hey what’s wrong with a little ambition? You can’t stay second fiddle for eternity. I’ve done my bit, I’ve put in my share. I’m known in other places as a decent chap. India? You’ve heard of India? No? Well over there humanity is thriving already and those guys have rolled me in with one of their gods, Shiva I think, basically a good fellow, they love me but oh no not here, oh no, we have to be angels, squeaky clean, what’s wrong with a little raunch every now and then Eve, do you think?’

  Eve looked away.

  ‘Yes well, The Lord will tell you I’m a corrupter of souls which to be honest is absolute hogwash. He will tell you that you have free will, you are free agents and can make choices, except that you must make the right choice or you’ll end up in a locale undesirable for eternity. Look I’ll be straight with you before you continue pumping away at humanity. Free choice is an illusion. You are what you are and can merely make one decision which is what you end up doing. You may think you have options, and you do, but being the person you are, there is only one choice. Let me introduce The Panel.’

  And it came to pass that before their eyes four figures appeareth. They were sitting, smiling with sparkling teeth, each with a hand on a buzzer. Adam and Eve knew not the buzzer, but I say that for you my reader, and Adam and Eve were startled and clung together and Max Price saw their shame and lo placed clothes upon th
em, which they found were soft and warm, and verily it put a smile on their faces.

  ‘The Panel my dears is an ancient Greek concept and here we have four ancient Greeks who estimate your next move. Let me introduce Zeus, Persephone, Stavros and Maria. Stavros and Maria run a fish and chip emporium at the far end of Hades, melt in your mouth and the aroma is to die for ha ha. You may think of these folk as gods and they often think of themselves that way but in reality they are like you and I, well not I ha ha, but certainly thou.

  ‘The sequence of events known as ‘history’ is recorded and understood by the concept of ‘time’. In fact all events have occurred and can be accessed at any point. Think of it as a flat picture, a cave drawing. The aim of The Panel is to have fun, with real live players, and how do they do it? They do it because they have your specifications, your characteristics, your DNA, your personality, and so given a set of circumstances, for example if Eve were to bear children, using the information they project what should happen in the future, in minutes, hours, days or years – the sex of the children, what she might name them and so on. Now, the score is greater the further the prediction. Fun? It’s more fun than you can poke a stick at. What? The estimate is checked against the actuality. What? So fun guys.’

  Lo the anguish of The Lord then echoed into the Valley of Darkness and boulders boomed into the darkest chasms and shook the earth. The Panel disappeared. Adam drew Eve closer. Max Price’s dark figure filled the cave which became icy, glittering with stalactites like knives poised to strike. His voice hardened and ripped into the void. They covered their ears but verily they could hear. They covered their eyes but still they saw.

  ‘I … I … will NOT be compromised nor praised by posterity. My shadow will cause the earth to groan in its burden of fear and destruction. My legions will roam the earth. Yea verily I shall wrought such ill that even you Jehovah will tire of my vengeance. Awe is my greeting, Woe my fortune and Death my legacy. I am Random Disorder.

  ‘I am the Unwelcome Guest.’

  Eve looked at Adam. ‘Shee-it. Heaveey eh Ads? This place is freezing my tits off. Whaddya reckon?’ Max Price looked at Eve, then at Adam, then at Eve, stunned disbelief on his face as he slowly vanished, saying ‘You know …’

  ‘Cripes Chicky Babe, just as well he pissed off. I was bored shitless eh? Could eat the crutch out of a low flyin’ duck.’

  And it came to pass that Ads failed to score a low flying duck but lo he did leap upon an unwary goat and Eve found many herbs and stuff and it became a fine wholesome meal. In the fullness of time Ads (and Eve) begot Cain and Abel who were wayward youths with a liking for herbs and stuff. Verily after a night on the turps Cain slew Abel. Shit happens.

  In accordance with Genesis Ch.5. Verse 5 Ads lived to a ripe old 930 but had separated from Eve 903 years before. Eve married Mario with whom she had been carnally familiar and had 25 children and 102 grand kids. Eve was rapt. Ads married Kiralee 903 years back, she was 6 years younger and spunky as, eh? Kiralee bore Ads 4 children: Little Ads, Kezza, Stevie and Jack and became less spunky after each one. Lo she found Ads was in an adulterous relationship with ‘That Bitch’ Lenore ‘Hey, call me Lennie’ and so left him for Nicko with whom she had been carnally familiar on occasion usually at Christmas parties. She kept the boys and Adam kept Lenore which lasted for 10 years before Lennie left Ads for Todd ‘Let me turn your lights on babe’ The Electrician.

  And so the Earth spun around with neither favour nor malice in tune with the nature of this particular existence. The Panel played their game unbeknownst to anyone, always smiling. Adam's seed stumbled and fumbled onward as humanity increased, stubbing toes, bumping into things, making mistakes, making progeny, dying, waging wars, and occasionally being beset with natural disasters, plagues, pestilence, famine, flood and other population reducing inconveniences. In early years it was believed that the Lord God Jehovah, or other gods launched these initiatives at mankind, to teach respect, or in recognition of the errors of their ways. Later humanity following 21st century arguments by Dawkins and Hitchens among others generally regarded religion as superstition and mythology, and it became clear that no superior celestial being had any interest whatsoever, beneficial or malicious. Except maybe Batman. Shit happens.

  The Recipe

  The recipe which commences ‘if you are hungry, catch a slow goat’ has long since gone. So, I have appropriated an excellent Sri Lankan recipe to tack onto my story. Of course it has been modified to my taste. Folk culture, whether cuisine, music or other art benefits from interaction, and is reborn. You can substitute lamb, pork or beef for goat meat, in fact adapt to your own taste.

  Finely grind the following spices:

  2 tsp brown mustard seeds

  ½ teaspoon whole peppercorns

  3 tbls coriander seeds

  2 cloves

  Grind or blend the following:

  1/4 medium Spanish red onion

  ½ inch piece ginger

  3 medium cloves garlic

  4 coriander roots

  2 small hot chillies, red or green

  Heat 3 tablespoons of oil – corn, macadamia, olive or peanut – to medium and add:

  1 medium cinnamon stick

  2 whole cardamom pods (crushed to put a split in pod)

  2 bay leaves

  ½ kilo approximately (can be more) lamb, goat, pork or beef

  Sear the meat quickly. Add the spices from the first bracket. Fry for 1 minute. Add the 2nd bracket. Fry for 5 minutes.

  Add 1 cup good dry white wine and 1 cup water, 1 tsp lemon juice, 2 tablespoons Thai or Vietnamese fish sauce and 1 tsp salt.

  Cover and cook on low heat – 90 mins for beef, 60 minutes for goat, lamb or pork. Add 2 chopped coriander plants and 270 ml tin of coconut cream.

  Thursday 8 November 2012

  Shiny Diamonds

  Mariah Jamieson

  Sheidow Park, SA

  Through those windows

  Lay two precious rocks

  Paced neatly upon a cloth

  Real pity about those locks

  Oh those shiny diamonds

  Enormous numbers for those

  Printed on that tiny tag

  I could never afford such

  When one can hardly afford a rag

  Oh those shiny diamonds

  I must have those gems

  They are simply brilliant

  How hard can it be?

  I must be resilient

  Oh those shiny diamonds

  I will steal them

  When the clock strikes twelve

  They will be all mine

  Take them right off that shelf

  Oh those shiny diamonds

  What a mistake

  This room is cold

  Trapped and alone

  I will be here till I grow old

  Why those shiny diamonds?

  Friday 9 November 2012

  The House At The End Of The Tracks

  C.G. Freedman

  Rouse Hill, NSW

 

‹ Prev