PARADISE LOST
By Jenny Macaulay. The squelch of her boot the left then the right the decay of seagrass that lines the shore like ropes of filthy foam from an outgoing tide. She steps over those ridges of strangled … Continued
By Jenny Macaulay. The squelch of her boot the left then the right the decay of seagrass that lines the shore like ropes of filthy foam from an outgoing tide. She steps over those ridges of strangled … Continued
by Jenny Macaulay. They were sitting at a table near the window where Bev absent-mindedly watched the morning sun inch its way up the salt and pepper shakers. She opened her free Woolworths’ recipe magazine while Margery checked her makeup … Continued
By Judy Rankin. Sometimes fact can be stranger than fiction… 1 October Had a dream about Bruce last night. He hasn’t died has he? Oh dear. Not that I know of. Maybe you should send him a message and make … Continued
The following is an excerpt from the middle-grade (8 – 12 years of age) novel, The Land of Giant Pineapples, written by grandmother and granddaughter team, Judy Rankin and Shayla Gray. Blurb: Eleven-year-old Shayla will have to join forces with … Continued
By Judy Rankin. Barcelona: a Mediterranean paradise for the sun-loving traveller, offers mile after mile of wide, gleaming sandy beaches, quaint but bustling markets and a plethora of festivals over the summer months. The location, warm climate, and natural beauty … Continued
By Judy Rankin. 1916 – King George V was on the throne. The ‘war to end all wars’ was raging through Europe, and the ‘mother country’ called for more of our fit and healthy to join the ranks on the … Continued
By Jo Curtain. sitting in a park, the afternoon dissolves in somnolence watery sunlight over still open water bordered by long, pointy, pith-less reeds. their heavy feet rooted in a Giacometti swamp. listen. listen. we all compete with the wind, … Continued
By Jo Curtain. Sadie and me descend into the valley. Not at ease—the crooked trail hurts my knees. I glance at Sadie, summer-girl shy, tender, her body tall and slender like the Alpine Ash trees. We’re tired. Flesh responding to … Continued
By Akshata Kulkarni. I have tasted your Kensington and endured the Calypso, but none to me tastes like my dear Alphonso. Amba, Aam or Mango—call it what you may—all signify the season of the bright yellow. While a bane to … Continued