Other Terrain
17 sec 
Issue One

Editorial: Issue One

This journal is the result of the passion and dedication of a group of Swinburne students and staff who were determined to add to the cultural landscape not only of their university, but of the wider literary world.

Other Terrain aims to introduce new and aspiring voices and our first issue proudly does just that.

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Alejandra Quiroz
27 sec 
Fiction & Issue One

High-Wasted Genes

By Matthew Jones

Her jacket was dancing in the wind. Out of time; off beat; sporadic. He thought she looked so beautiful. He exhaled slowly, trying not to get lost in his own thoughts. He must focus on the situation he had stumbled into tonight. Focus on the beautiful girl in black skinny jeans, her dark hair whipping about her face, her gaze meeting his with a sweet smile. In the snarling wind her fringe covered her eyes, but he could still make out the radiant blue which glinted underneath.

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Artur Rutkowski
26 sec 
Fiction & Issue One

Same but Different

By Tina Tsironis

Often a gap will develop between someone you thought you knew and the person they have become. A gap that widens at first gradually and subtly, and then all at once like a jet plane flying full throttle into a building.  The sight of my younger brother Steven chasing my mum down our hallway last year, his face fire engine red, pushed the gap from slightly far apart to so extensive you’d have to run a marathon to reach the other side.

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Siyan Ren
24 sec 
Fiction & Issue One

The Last Job on Earth

By James Nicholson

No one could actually hear the actual sounds of intelligence, or of thought, but John Johnson knew the three animated suits before him were thinking. Considering, scanning and analysing him simultaneously; monitoring everything from his blood pressure to the dilation of his eyes, his heart rate compared against brain function.  The thoughts, Johnson mused, would sound like a soft serve of static; a screen whose signal was not quite right.  Thoughts would sound grey.

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Matt Howard
19 sec 
Fiction & Issue One

A Series of Microfiction

By Arianne James


Her mother sits in the wicker chair by the bay windows, watching the snow flurries swirl in gentle tendrils, like dancers in white tulle floating around a ballroom. Baby can hear her knitting needles clickety clacking their way towards a scarf. The tiny girl lies on the sheepskin rug by the open fire—but don’t worry, there is a grate.

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