YeahWrite Category

Milestones

Shanti wound her window down and inhaled the fumes. She loved these late-night gas station runs with Appa. It was their time together. No Amma worrying over money, or which Aunty had insulted her this week. No Anna, pretending to be older than his years, trying to impress Appa by discussing politics like a good […]

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What starts with ‘F’ and ends with ‘uck’?

Q: What starts with ‘F’ and ends with ‘-uck’? When my eldest was still shorter than me, still small enough to clamber up onto my lap, take my face in his chubby little hands, and very seriously demand my attention, we lived in a remote town in the far northwest of Australia. (Now he demands […]

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Lovers’ tryst

Prompted by their tryst eternal, Sea sends wave on crashing wave, Churning, frothing, roiling Ocean, spits her foaming peaks so bright. Sand awaits impatiently, holding to his word and promise.

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Karti’s Revenge

Karti scrubbed with grim determination. It was tougher than she’d thought to get blood out of carpet, and she was sure someone in the building had already called the cops. Even with Marron doped up on tranqs, she’d had a hell of a time muffling his screams. Someone must have heard.

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First Kiss

“Close your eyes,” he says, all bravado and fifth-grade-boy machismo. “What? Don’t be dumb,” I say. “Just close your eyes. I’ve got a present for you.”

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Exit, Night

Night enters, rudely awakening fear while light peeks tentatively from other rooms. Fate reaches for the one match still housed within its book, lone survivor of smoking years. Phosphorus flowers into flame, snatching at the candle. Vanquished, darkness slinks away.

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Madame Veronica

Kevin read the sign above the door again. Madame Veronica: Clairvoyant and Psychic Healer. It had been a year since the accident. His memory of that night was still sketchy. They’d been at the Andersons’ for dinner. Lars had been overgenerous with the wine, as usual. He’d argued with Gillian over who should drive home. […]

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Leader of the Pack

Storytelling and the awareness of the power of words started early for me.

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Noir

Crimson splatters line the walls, crime scene tape girds the door. Shattered glass, a single lily, and pristine white shagpile carpet grace the floors. He lifts the needle, abruptly silencing the Shostakovitch piano concerto. Tipping back his trilby, he scratches his head. Who still uses a record player? Image credit: SouthernRebel/pixabay SaveSave SaveSave SaveSave

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