Category: 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.
-
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…
-
Seven Deadly Selfies
By Eloise Faichney Lust ‘And you tried to change didn’t you? closed your mouth more tried to be softer prettier less volatile, less awake but even when sleeping you could feel him travelling away from you in his dreams…’
-
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 high-pitched and slurry. You leaned close into my ear, your floppy boy band hair tickling my cheek. ‘Come on, don’t be like that.…
-
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…
-
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 front of her. From both ends they spoke with a different accent. One that sounded both familiar and unusual to me.
-
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.
-
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,…
-
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 listened to the warm summer breeze.
-
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. Baby can hear her knitting needles clickety clacking their way towards a scarf. The tiny girl lies on the sheepskin rug by the…
-
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 reversing into the drive instead, so that he could come out forwards, but of course only remembered when it was too late. Next…
-
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 the sinew’s electricity. Together, we diagram the hunt, the pointillism of hunger brushing our backs, our muscles speaking in the language of temples…
-
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 want you to help me unweave this glass wool warp of my epiphanies
-
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
-
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?
-
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.
-
Stray Tufts
By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh I am a weed, A stray tuft of foliage that no one wants.
-
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.
-
Instructions for a Sick Day
By Eloise Faichney Roll the blinds up so the light is inescapable, so that you cannot oversleep.
-
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.