The Tick Tock Killer - by Alex Cothren
Fiction Alex Cothren Fiction Alex Cothren

The Tick Tock Killer - by Alex Cothren

Rodriguez, suddenly looking pale: God damn. I sure hope we don’t find anything like that.
Close shot as the make-up brush cuts short its hula. The Make-up Girl’s face dips into the mirror. Dark, hard eyes.
Make-up Girl: You fucking better find something like that. I need this job, okay? My dog’s on dialysis …

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Swift Parrot x Dark Mofo - by Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn
Nonfiction Zowie Douglas‐Kinghorn Nonfiction Zowie Douglas‐Kinghorn

Swift Parrot x Dark Mofo - by Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn

Sex and death on the eve of the winter solstice? I gulp as the ogoh-ogoh looms over me, ready to prey on my fears. The usually diminutive swift parrot (or Lathamus discolor) is rendered in behemoth glory as a papier-mâché Balinese sculpture. Beneath the parrot’s clawed foot is a small parcel made of palm leaf: a canang sari …

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Down to a Fine Art - by Elizabeth Flux
Nonfiction Elizabeth Flux Nonfiction Elizabeth Flux

Down to a Fine Art - by Elizabeth Flux

… The best way to work out what and who is and isn’t essential is to imagine the world with it stripped away. Yes, I want to keep breathing and I want my heart to keep beating, but I also want to exist as more than a body moving through a silent utilitarian world …

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The Intimacy of Daily Life: The News is the Weather - by Rosie Flanagan and Miriam McGarry
Arts Features Rosie Flanagan and Miriam McGarry Arts Features Rosie Flanagan and Miriam McGarry

The Intimacy of Daily Life: The News is the Weather - by Rosie Flanagan and Miriam McGarry

Tasmania and Iceland sit at almost opposite ends of the world; remote islands of disparate wilderness that are as distant as the 17,000 kilometres that separate them. The premise behind our application for the publishing residency there was simple: islands, as books, have delineated boundaries – and yet, the identities of both are formed through interactions and exchanges that extend beyond the lines of a map or the borders of a page. We wrote to Skaftfell, who run the Printing Matter program, and told them that we intended to publish an island …

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The Wolves - by Josephine Rowe
Fiction Josephine Rowe Fiction Josephine Rowe

The Wolves - by Josephine Rowe

How was it? We grew up inside those crumbling estate houses, where kikuyu grass knuckled through indifferent brickwork, through the husks of cars, and still we shot up like miraculous gymnosperms to various kinds of fame …

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Pink Sun - by Toby Fitch
Poetry Toby Fitch Poetry Toby Fitch

Pink Sun - by Toby Fitch

… at peak hour / pink sun / black sky / you can return now / for eternity / ’cause you’ve stood up with the Hellsong / hung loose and come out the other / sideline without a hose / to fan the arson online …

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Selling the Farm - by Nicole Gill
Nonfiction Nicole Gill Nonfiction Nicole Gill

Selling the Farm - by Nicole Gill

Nicole Gill on holding on, and letting go:
They’re selling our family farm. And I don’t think that I can stop it. I find out second-hand, from my brother. My mind skips over emotions like a stone across water – denial, anger, straight over bargaining, and into depression. How can this be? The Van Diemonian squattocracy ain’t what it used to be …

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Cod Opening - by Wayne Marshall
Fiction Wayne Marshall Fiction Wayne Marshall

Cod Opening - by Wayne Marshall

So, finally. After a near torturous week of waiting, it’s here. After a week of sleepless nights, of time crawling by on the factory walls, of preparing his fishing rods and watching the weather – Cod Opening. …

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For Sale - by Ruth Quibell
Nonfiction Ruth Quibell Nonfiction Ruth Quibell

For Sale - by Ruth Quibell

Ruth Quibell on homesickness and the fading of the great Australian dream:
Like most Australians, I once aspired to own a home of my own, but as I get older, and property prices further part ways with median incomes, I know it is unlikely. I’m far from an outlier … Whatever my other achievements at work, or in my personal relationships, I am left with an unresolved longing for a permanent home …

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Sunlight / Dear Mum - by Graham Akhurst
Poetry Graham Akhurst Poetry Graham Akhurst

Sunlight / Dear Mum - by Graham Akhurst

… At midday the sun was high and bright in the clear blue sky. You took off your slippers, socks, and beanie, and walked your frail body – with the hospital gown hanging loosely over you and the wheels of your drip machine rattling – onto the lawn …

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