The Unfinished Symphony

For a human, Franz is usually quite nice, I guess. He spends a lot of time at his desk, or going between the desk and the piano. He’s a composer. He writes dots on paper to tell musicians what to play. I understand he’s quite famous. That doesn’t really matter to me.

Sweet Sixteen

Andy wanted butterfly cakes for her 16th birthday. I wanted her to have exactly what she wanted. Her life was about to change in so many dramatic ways, and I wanted to help her hold on to the innocence just a little longer.

No More Flowers

The flowers, as always, were his way of making things “better” without an actual apology and without changing his behaviour in any way. Flowers ended the discussion. If she complained further after he sent them she was just unreasonable and ungrateful.

Lance and Arthur

Lance sat at the table with a dozen or so of his closest friends. He didn’t actually like any of them, but it was called “networking”. Everyone would get together and pretend they did not detest each other, because each of these people could be of use at some time.

Not on the Menu

This little story takes place in the 1960s, around the beginning of the second wave of feminism in Australia. Not on the Menu Short story by Iris Carden Elsie saw them through the café window.  “Oh not them again,” she groaned. “Not who?” asked Margaret. “Those three, with the excess Brylcreem and the loud ties.”…… Continue reading Not on the Menu

Can’t it Wait until Morning?

Humans are the strangest creatures, don’t you think? Take my Mum for example. During the day, when I mostly just sleep and eat, Mum’s up. She’s writing things. She’s watching TV. She’s taking my doggy sister Fanta for a walk. She’s just constantly doing stuff when it’s sleeping time! Then at night, when it’s time to play, she and Fanta just both go to bed.

Tangled Web

I’ve seen huntsman spiders bigger than my hand.  I’ve seen bird spiders big enough to hunt and kill birds.  I’ve seen huge redbacks with their dangerous red flash across their huge round abdomens.  I’ve never seen anything like this.  It was at least four metres long.


A small wrapped parcel, covered in soot, bounced out of the fireplace. “I’ll put that back for you if you want.: Ali looked from her phone to the package on the floor. “What is it?” she asked.


Archibald Clark spat his coffee over the computer screen.His long-suffering wife Marigold went to the kitchen for a dishcloth to clean up the mess.  “It was never a good idea for you to read the newspaper at the breakfast table when it was a paper.  It’s an even worse idea now that it’s on the net,” she said.