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The Girl who Muffles her Inner Voice
By Tina Tsironis First impressions count for a lot, even if we don’t care to admit it. ‘I don’t trust you’, I said in the taxi the night we met, my voice…
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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…
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Foreigners
By Senaj Alijevski After eighteen years in Australia, my mother decided to return to Macedonia. One evening, she dialed the number to our family overseas. It sounded like they were right in…
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I Met Australia in an Unoccupied Land
By Karina Talbot For a few months I could forget easily enough where I came from, The old tongues and tones of Western Europe Veiled me.
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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…
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Intentions of F. Scott Fitzgerald
By Shaun Perry ‘So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’ I reread it a few times, put the book down, rolled a cigarette and…
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A Series of Microfiction
By Arianne James Invisible 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.…
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The Empty Heart Overflows
By Andy Goss Backing out of the driveway, Jak checked left and right. Nothing coming, nothing parked. He twisted round; no movement. This was, Jak thought, perhaps illegal. He had thought of…
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You don’t believe in duende but
By Scherezade Siobhan In a field of barley, you are an Andalusian horse – light’s flaxen champagne rippling beneath the naranjo trees I am a dilettante of wanton breeds, an artisan of…
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between lettuce & lsd
By Scherezade Siobhan the very first thing he ever said was – i want you to inch out the splinters i have sharpened into ribs within the tilde of my anatomy. i…
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tűz
By Scherezade Siobhan snow owl, i call him – the totem of gold-augured goddesses through a jetlag, our twin bodies are willed into an island dargah
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Sardines
By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh Who took your measurements? The diameter of the jugular nestled happily in your throat. Who was it you watched fall as you straddled Lucifer and rode the goat?
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Rapid Change
By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh It was without a doubt, That I would be forgotten, left behind. Although I did not really pout, As I really didn’t mind.
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Stray Tufts
By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh I am a weed, A stray tuft of foliage that no one wants.
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What’s at Steak
By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh She keeps a cleaver, Right next to the bedside table, Underneath her pillow. She has scrawled My name, On every inch of the blade.
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Instructions for a Sick Day
By Eloise Faichney Roll the blinds up so the light is inescapable, so that you cannot oversleep.
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Review: Belonging
By Sue Goss Beyond the Raj – the Search for Identity in an Anglo-Indian World: a review of Umi Sinha’s first novel, Belonging.
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Jac Mason
Jac Mason is a past Sub-editor of Backstory journal. He is currently studying Professional Writing and Editing at Swinburne. He enjoys writing satirical and dark comedy pieces and if he is ever…
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Interview with Karina Machado
By Teuila Krause Karina Machado is the Sydney-based bestselling author of three paranormal non-fiction novels – Spirit Sisters, Where Spirits Dwell and Love Never Dies. She currently works for Who magazine as…
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Artist profile: Stephanie Gray
By Sarah Giles Stephanie Gray is an emerging artist from Melbourne. Entirely self-taught, Stephanie was inspired by her Grandmother’s artistic talents. After trying to cajole her loving Gran into sharing the secrets…
