Scarce Memories

After stealing a bickie from the jar in the kitchen cupboard, I made my way through the dining room and into the lounge. I knew where the toys were, they never moved. I delicately leaned over the little glass table and the crocheting tools that sat upon it. I picked up the big cardboard box and manoeuvred myself out from behind the large leather recliners. Even though there was nothing particularly amazing in there, I knew what I was looking for. I rummaged past the dirty blonde walking doll my mother played with as a child, I bypassed the golliwog that as a young child I adored, and I felt the familiar metal rails that I was searching for resting at the bottom of the box. I remember hearing

Okay with anything

In a group, the art of decision-making requires, at best, consensus. Or at least the volume of one voice to rise higher than the others in the room. And always, it must end with a clear destination and path forward. There are four in our group, including myself. It is not an ideal number for making democratic decisions, the obvious hurdle being the lack of a tie-breaking vote in the event of deadlock. The first time we all went out for dinner only came after three previous attempts to decide on an establishment had ended in shouting matches of exasperating nature, and that is the story I have decided to tell here. I have a feeling that the friends in question would not take too kindly to exp

Jumping the Pond

[Content Warning: Homophobia, self-harm, suicide] I decided to kill myself after a nasogastric hospital stay. I’d lived in the closet for so long that it had started to close in around me and I was shrinking myself to fit. One day, I woke up with a shadow that I just couldn’t shake. Meals turned to poison on my plate. I started carrying my closet with me everywhere I went. Soon, my melancholy mornings turned to melancholy months and no amount of therapy could bring me peace. My father made AA meetings more like family reunions and stumbled home angry each night. He’d catch a glimpse of my closet and try to beat it out of me. But I didn’t leave, because you don’t bite the hand that feeds you,


We are connected in so many ways to each other: Friends, family, co-workers, Culture, religion, beliefs, Circumstantial or chosen, Brightly coloured of intangible, Tendrils reaching our in search of others. Strands overlapping and intertwining Like spider webs. Some as grand as the wing of an eagle, Filling up a whole room with their glistening silver rope Some small masterpieces with immaculate patterns. So delicate and easily broke, Yet at the same time The strongest bond on Earth. Lasting for lifetimes Or for only seconds. A knowing wink, A wave of gratitude, A shared eye-roll. Connections with strangers: The dewdrops on the webs. Glistening jewels adding to the beauty Of your life's des

We acknowledge the past, present and emerging traditional owners of the land on which we live and work, the Wadjuk people of the Noongar nation and acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded.

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© 2020 by Curtin Writers Club