Stories and Paintings
LaShawn listened with neither a word nor a judgmental look for ten minutes while I expressed my bamboozlement and displeasure. I marched about the living room, frustration causing my arms to flail and my voice to reach shrieking pitch at least thrice (that’s one, Rory). At the end of my miserable tirade, LaShawn just... Continue Reading →
I sat there beside the shed in increasing panic, staring at my right foot. It was smurf blue. My shoe and sock were removed—how and to where I didn’t know—and my pants were cut off at an angle, just above my ankle. They were perfectly cut, too—not a frayed thread. The skin on my... Continue Reading →
Downstairs in the kitchen, I searched the cupboards for something to eat. I found nothing. I know LaShawn was barbecuing, but what about potato salad, chips, cocktail onions, savoury biscuits, cupcakes? Maybe Budgie was going to shop for the party tomorrow morning. Where was Budgie anyway? He didn’t even have a jar of Vegemite.... Continue Reading →
Queensland, Australia, 4th April 2001. It was a Wednesday night. Isaiah was on the door. Six foot-four, a hundred and twenty-five kilograms of Fijian muscle. Friendliest guy you could meet. I once saw him pick up a grown man and throw him over a fence. We presented our driver’s licences for inspection. “Okay... Continue Reading →
Sorry about that. It has been six weeks since I last wrote. I couldn’t write. You see, it’s not every day you realise you are not the person you thought you were. It was a shock. Even now, still, it is difficult to admit. But after deep and painful reflection, as well as five... Continue Reading →
A yank of the hand brake and a deft swivel of the steering wheel, and LaShawn brought his truck round to skidding halt on the dirt driveway beside Budgie’s house. He chuckled as he switched the engine off. Budgie—his last name is Finch, so we call him Budgie—had a four-acre property with a... Continue Reading →
Scotland Yard chief, Giuseppe Mellow, was found dead yesterday in an abandoned dance studio in Chelsea. Local breakdance crew leader, William “Groove Wizard” Atkinson (who asked to be named), made the gruesome discovery around 9am. Mellow had sustained injuries including multiple gunshot and knife wounds, third degree burns, partial disembowelment and beheading. Despite an apparent... Continue Reading →
St Gavin’s Cathedral, Norwich, England, 29th May 1999. Two tuxedo-clad groomsmen discussing football, three flower girls admiring their own pink dresses, and a stressed out woman trying to fasten a bow tie to the collar of a squirming page boy occupied a small room to the side of the church entrance. The father of the... Continue Reading →
A hundred and twenty-five kilometres an hour. Thoughts swirled in my head. A lot of questions. No answers. The music was so loud. LaShawn had spared no expense on his car stereo. Drummed his hands on the steering wheel in time to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Sang along in falsetto. Always falsetto. Asked him... Continue Reading →
“Just shove that stuff over,” said LaShawn, as I climbed into the mess of pool noodles and kickboards on the back seat of his car. Rory sat in the front. With a screech of tyres and a belch of smoke, we roared out of the train station car park. “So it all went to plan... Continue Reading →
