australian fiction
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The others leave, one by one, and it ends up being just me and Ginger at the steps by the river, sipping from the bottle in lukewarm turns and staring out to the monstrous city lights that seem close but are worlds away. ‘Let’s get some chips,’ he says. ‘You go,’ I say, resigned. I
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It’s the usual cafe, every Saturday. Today, Aaron asks for a banana milkshake, and his brother says he’ll have one too. “He always has the same as me,” says Aaron. And it’s true, the brother always has exactly the same, whatever it is. “Why do you have to copy me?” says Aaron, riled by his brother’s
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If I had a lion, I’d train it to eat anyone that wasn’t me. It would just be me and the lion. The lion would do his stuff, and I’d do mine. He’d hunt, because that’s what lions do. I’d harvest and eat wild plants and berries, because that’s what I’d do. I’d shed my
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‘In here,’ he said, grabbing my hand, and leading me up a dark flight of stairs, then another, and another, until we’d climbed so high I could feel the building sway. He unlocked a big metal door and pulled me into the room and said, ‘This is Ernie.’ It was an ugly thing, squat and
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Although he hadn’t been asleep, Michael felt rested and much calmer. The room was still and peaceful, and lit by a bleed of sunlight around the edges of the curtains. He was lying on his front, and he turned his head and looked across the bed, into the mirror in the wardrobe door. Just behind
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