There's something relaxing about sitting at the railway station on an overcast day, reading, occasionally lifting your head to see a few carriages whip past, peoople's faces a momentary snapshot traversing your synapses. Then you realise one of those faces was not human. You blink and the image is gone from your mind, a rapidly… Continue reading Microfiction: A Relaxing Day
In the span of a heartbeat, your brain attempts to re-engage with your new reality. You appear to be seated on an aircraft. Leaving your life and family behind to move to Melbourne, Australia. Shit. What were you thinking? To your left, your partner has a similarly stricken face. Clearly, reality just dawned on her… Continue reading It Ain’t Home, Is It?
The death grip around his wrist loosened; her voice receded into tired, silent gasps, to be swallowed up by the hum of the machines. He strained to focus on her sound, failing to register the wail that was now overpowering the ears. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Tariq. It’s a boy.” *** One second he was… Continue reading The Boy Who Couldn’t See
Things I learned today: I’m not the only one who thinks self making out would be hot. Poop jokes go surprisingly well with introspection. Surprisingly well. This learning experience brought to you by one Jessica Fink in her fabulous book We can Fix It: A Time Travel Memoir. It really brought validation to my beliefs… Continue reading Going Time Travelling With Jess Fink
<scene> Our young procrastinator spawns on a little piece of land. A sea stretches out as far as the eye can see, not a hint of shore on any side. Well this is a monumental suck, decides the young procrastinator, displaying a dazzling array of vocabulary, and a not-so-dazzling command over sentence structure. His attention… Continue reading Wherein Our Young Procrastinator Tries His Hand At Chronicling
So this is what your life gets reduced to in the end; an uncomfortable hospital bed; the incessant blipping of the life support system; tearful relatives dropping in to pat my leg, or mop my brow, or shed some more tears; nurses bustling about, checking the morphine, readjusting the blinds, patting me some more and… Continue reading As I Lay Dying
He woke up from a comfortable sleep. In fact, he could not remember the last time he had slept so well, and woken up feeling this fresh. He looked around the attic. It was his room now, his abode, ever since that fateful day. He could still fell the teeth breaking from the force of… Continue reading A New World