Web Stories
This is the location for short stories that are freely available for you to read on-line.
Enjoy them and check for updates.
There is a list of the stories below this section - most recent first.
This is the location for short stories that are freely available for you to read on-line.
Enjoy them and check for updates.
There is a list of the stories below this section - most recent first.
This story was first published under the name of Emily George in Lesbian Short Fiction issue 5, edited by Jinx Beers, USA, 1999.
This was part of the reason she’d travelled all this way to Brisbane, Natasha was thinking, as she leaned back in the chair the better to appreciate the warm sunshine slanting on to the sun deck at the back of this large, even by Queensland standards, federation-style house. With the tall palm trees and other exotic flora she couldn’t identify virtually blocking the view down the gently sloping backyard to the creek, she could almost believe she was in another country altogether, so different was it to her own cramped-for-space courtyard in North Fitzroy.
The pilot had left strict instructions that I was to bring my lunch with me and plenty of water to drink. I’d been up since dawn in order to get everything ready before being driven to the airport by my son-in-law. After being weighed in (at 75 kilos) with my pack, I was taken out to the plane.
It hadn’t been the first house to be built in the compound although it seemed like it the way it sat squat and square onto the block whereas the front house, which had been, was angled in quite a peculiarly inconvenient position and the third house out the back, was so small as to be almost uninhabitable.
I’m sitting up in bed with the dappled early morning sunshine spilling through the open window behind my head to make patterns on the doona. The warm breeze is stirring the leaves of the fig tree shading this side of the house.
I’m so locked into this state of despair and dread that I can’t see my way clear to get out of it, I write on the next blank page in my journal, I try to write and find the words don’t come anymore, there’s no point, all has been subsumed by this other, this terribleness that has taken over my life so that I feel as if I’m behind a wall and can’t talk to anyone, can’t communicate and feel too raw to want to anyway.