Winter2021

The harsh reality of life was slowly sinking in – school fees, income tax, and mortgage bills. Jack was feeling vertiginous. ‘How did this happen?’ he thought to himself, ‘I was a millionaire, I was rich! but now bankruptcy is a semi-reality.’ Just what could Jack do? ‘Arson? No, insurance fraud? Maybe, no! No! What am I thinking?’ Jack had to do something though, but jail would be the final nail in his property empire’s coffin.

Assessed for street repairs! No! it’s going to cost too much…

Bankruptcy. Jack had fallen so far.

“I win at monopoly again!” Kennan yelled triumphantly.

There I was; no escape. The power of the water knocking me back down over and over. I was stuck, I was weak and losing hope in myself. The glass surroundings were causing me to suffer my claustrophobia. I thought to myself: deep breaths, deep breaths. I had to find a way out. I could see the door, the little knob that would grant the power of escaping this nightmare, but it was just out of reach.
“Knock, knock!”
“Who is it?” I yell.

“Me, your mum. You told me to be here in case you fall in the shower.”

Every day, a delivery man stops at a women’s house and she provides him with food and water.

One day, during his shift, he arrives as usual. Nobody answers. He looks through her murky window. Nobody’s there. He hears something behind him…

It’s her. She looks terrible. Hair undone, shirt untucked. She ignores him and walks straight inside. He is confused, but hops back in his truck.

As he drives, he sees someone in the middle of the barren road. It’s her, everything the same, only more beaten up and bruised.

She whispers to him, “My twin wants me dead.”

The pungent stench of flesh battled with my senses; my comrades sprawled out on the crimson ground while crows gnawed on their remaining flesh. Simutaneously, the cherry blossoms played peacefully in the midnight breeze.

My katana and armour felt like an extension of my body, moving as one. The sparks from our clashed blades illuminated the gruesome battle, creating a metallic orchestra. I could feel the bitter wind on my neck. The shouts of my comrades sustained me.

While I fell to my knees, the petals fell with me. Though my time is over, my body will sustain their beauty.

Three silhouettes loomed over the body lying in the dank alleyway, their job nearly done, and what a job! “You think it’s an okay place?” one asked, his voice echoing like a pebble in a vast ocean. The stockier of the three spoke.

“I think we try something else…” she whispered ominously.

“What?” the other asked judiciously.

Suddenly, a squeak came from the bitumen, and the body began to move.

“Can we get on with the leg exercises?” it groaned. “This bitumen is hurting my back.”

The trees waved as the rest of the Pilates class filtered into the laneway.

The radiance of the sun blinded me as I spun around another bend. They have been on my tail all day, relentless and never-tiring. As I stumbled down the final stretch of rough orange turf, I smelled that metallic smell, tasted that metallic taste.

Blood.

The rocks that spun up at me like knives, had cut me on my arms and legs, but I ignored that God-forsaken, putrid taste and kept going. I must keep going. I will keep going. My legs pump like hot engines.

I feel their hot breath as I cross the line. The ultra-marathon is over.

He was flying into the depths of German air space. His old spitfire was on its last legs. He felt a shudder; an array of bullets ripped at the plane’s tail. His face dropped; he knew his plane would go down. The wind lashed his battered body like a whip. The cold wind burning him like a flame thrower. The engine gave puff after puff of thick smoke, the propellor slowed, then finally went dead.

His dream was always to go back home as a war hero. It came true; he was a war hero.

But he didn’t get home.

My heart skipped a beat. I looked up and all I saw was a massive discharge of red and black smoke which filled the air. The sound of metal on metal created an eerie sound across Manhattan. Everyone looked to the towers that once filled the skyline. Now there was a massive gaping hole in the middle of the north tower. People came running out of the bottom of the tower with a look of terror and worry on their scared and bloody faces.

The planes came and hit in a matter of seconds.

A nation is scarred for life.

I’m senseless, I can’t see, hear or smell. My head is being plunged into a rank, rusted toilet. I can’t breathe; it smells like my grandma’s cooking – disgusting. My consciousness is slipping. I thrash around trying to get him off me which makes things worse. It’s just wasting my breath, so I stop – accept my fate.

Instantaneously it all stops, I can hear, see and smell again. I gaze behind me and yelp. There is blood on the floor. I can see the bully lying on the floor with a big rupture in his head.

I check his pulse, nothing.

He thought to himself, I won’t need to check the reserve tank. I am the pilot, he thought, not the engineer. “Please fasten your seatbelts, prepare for take off,” he said.

As the plane took off, and reach almost 2000 latitude, “Please remain seated as the turbulence will be disturbing.” The pilot became as red as a tomato as he realised what was about to happen. The red flickering lights were the most intimidating thing ever. The oxygen masks drop down. 1000 metres, 500 metres till the ground. The guilt, his responsibility, and the sin.

100 metres, 50 metres, 25…

Boom, Boom, his heart thumps. Michael sprints down the train station in his business suit late to the biggest interview of his life. He barges through the door, sweat dripping down his face as the boss sits down with his hands crossed – clearly disappointed. “You’re late,” he states, disliking Michael already.

“Sorr-” Michael puffs as the boss interrupts him.

“Let’s just get on with it. I have a meeting to get to!” he grunts.

“I am sorry; I had kids to take care of,” Michael says guiltly.

“Kids! You know what, we are not doing this,” the boss sneers.

I am vagrant, uncivil and insignificant. I dive through the air with a prolonged face, serrated like a sword. I am tanned through my neck; they prong their rectangle in my eye. People see me – they squawk, squeal, run. I am resilient. I don’t care.

They see dirt, grime. I see crates lined with food for weeks. The never-ending food source. Global pandemics are a treat, nothing to fight me. I have adapted. This is my home. I am no human nor alien. I am the superior race and I will rule earth after humans.

I am… Bin Chicken.

Going to the ocean depths cost him more than money ever would… He watched his vitals intensely, listening to his breath and the steady beep of safety. An echoey clang encased his ears.

Suddenly, his surroundings seemed dire, dimmer… deadly.

He peered around and spied a lone bolt rolling on the metal flooring. The lighting flickered. Off, for good. His vitals were still safe. He then heard another clang in the pitch darkness, coating his very being with terror. Another bolt; yet more still. His vitals began flashing red. The remaining bolts rolled around him, cackling at his demise.

Screwed.

The waves are rolling through like skating along a smooth long road. The isolation felt like a heavy load.

The ocean is all around me. I see majestic fish gliding through the water below me. Waves crashing on the gorgeous reef. Me, surfing like a beast.

Waves rising in the distance. It is like I am the only one in existence. The sea is my home There is so much foam. I have been out here for hours. I am imagining a warm shower.

I see a fin slicing in the water. It is going to be a shark slaughter.

There was one minute left in the tense second quarter. We needed to score to get the momentum for the second half. I dribbled the ball up, then passed it, then got the ball back. There were only ten seconds left and the game was tied. I drove to the basket then stepped back, faked the shot. The defender jumped. I jumped into the defender and shot the ball. I drew the foul and the ball sailed through the air. ‘Buzz,’ the siren sounded. ‘Swish’ – I scored. We had the momentum and were up by four at half time.

My body… catatonic, lips chapped, my gums… blackening. Salt from the ocean’s brim washes through the cracks in the White Lions’ narrow hull as my beloved children and I watch as their mother is shot and plunged into the dreary ocean.

I’m next…

“I can’t watch,” my daughter wails and slumps back into the damp corner of the hull.

The captain’s boot echoes.  He tears me from my children and forces me across the deck.

I walk the splintering path towards my doom…

I take one last gaze at my sweet children, before…

“BANG.”

Only red on the White Lion.

“Timeout! Timeout!” screamed Coach K.

One point separated a championship team for 2021, 9 seconds… I hadn’t got on the court yet, “Bryce you take the shot,” said our Coach. I walked intently on the floor, my heart pumping inside my chest. “DE-FENCE … DE-FENCE,” the chant roared. With four seconds left, I leapt and snatched the ball. I made a quick crossover and dribble towards our hoop at halfcourt. My shot was thrown up. The last buzzer sounded, it soared through the sky like an eagle …

SWISH.

It’s over; the crowd went into a frenzy.

“THAT’S GAME!”

#@$% I swore. My leg hurt so bad; I think I broke it. I had been skiing and I fell off a cliff – and broke my leg. I had landed in a forest outcrop. The town I needed to get to was still 1.5 kilometres away and there was no way I could do that on a broken leg. I stood up and tried to continue skiing – ahhhhhhhh a new wave of pain hit me, and I passed out.

The words GAME OVER flashed over my screen in big bold red text; guess I have to start again.

They said I was insane, gone rogue. I’ll show them that the impossible is possible because hiking through Canada is actually quite a breeze.

I came across a dangerous river with a rope tied either side. The rapids below looked unforgiving. Moving along the river, I felt like I had signed my death wish. A gargantuous bear was clouded by the pine forest. I was paralysed by fear. Then something hit me and sent me flying into the endless abyss of the savage water.

Well, a new record was made – first person to be killed by a Rainbow Trout.

The wind lashed through the archaic willows firmly fixed to the age-old earth. Fields are stained blood red by the flourishing poppies. I stand watching the creek raging violently.

I hear the gunshots echoing through the woodlands getting louder and louder. I cry for help, but I hear no noise. It’s like I’m drowning in a mound of dirt. Until I look down, all I see is my cold lifeless body staring at me.

That’s when I feel the pulling sensation. I am lifted up towards a bright light. That’s when the curtains close, darkness envelops. The performance is done.

I am ready for the call, sitting restlessly in my putrid trench. We thought we had won, but nobody wins a war. There it is, the call everyone has been on standby for. We leave the damp, mouldy sandbags, teaming with filthy rats and sprint across the fatal battlefield. Anthony, war-time soulmate, was just mowed down and left there, bleeding out. I don’t want to be next, but my fatigued body won’t let me go anymore. I’m dead. But I’m not.

I wake up on the hospital bed and my doctor asks me, “Is everything ok?”

I can finally rest.

My arm was killing me as I grasped for my canteen. The water trickled down my cracked lips. As I sat there on the field of poppies the only place I wanted to be was back home – a fireplace with the kids and wife. The sound of gunshots filled my ears; bombing was going off somewhere near me. I couldn’t stand up; my body was broken. Death was everywhere.

I thought about my kids and wife and decided that if this was going to be my last few moments on this earth, I wanted to leave thinking about something amazing.

A man stepped out of the folded wing of a 70s Beetle, pastel green, leather loafers leaving soft echoes in desert dust. A rhythmic

noise sounded past shelves of exotic bottles, empty like the bar. The man looked down at the scuffed hard-wood floors and then up at the bar-tender.

“The Northern states have annexed,” the bartender stated bluntly.

“Canada?” asked the man in the loafers.

A soft grunt was the bartender’s only reply.

The invasion of America through the Bering Strait sapped the resolve of a country already in death throes. Mojave cacti shadows, cast from atomic light.

Berlin is cold to begin with. But it’s about to get a whole lot colder. If my evil plan goes well that is. It is time to bring back the Nazis. Bigger. Better. Stronger. This time, we’ll win the war, and Europe and the world.

Two weeks in, recruitment is going well. With over 200 recruits a day, numbers are well over 3,000.

Ammunition. We need ammunition. We have enough firepower in our rifles and ARs, but we need the ammunition to win the war. But even so, I have no doubt in my body: We will win the war.

We’ve lived in this sanctuary longer than everyone else, ever since that siege was won 450 years ago. The kingdom prospers. It’s a miracle to see how from Seljuk mayhem comes perfection. Iron-fisted Leadership. Order. However, not even stars last forever. Peace and harmony itself will never be permanent. There are insurgents. They have grown in strength, continuing even now. They have hidden on their little island for centuries, biding their time, waiting to strike. It will be oh-so-easy for them; they are closer than any of our enemies. But they will hide no longer. They will feel our might.

Grey. Everything was grey. The door was there, but my mind had locked it. I couldn’t move. The barrier around myself was concrete in my mind. My bleak room was my safety. It was also my prison. Thoughts came flooding in when I left my room. So I didn’t. I was alone. I was safe, nobody could hurt me. I could hurt nobody. My mother was my life. Now that she was gone, I was dead.

I stared at the door. I choose life. I opened the door so I could resurrect my life. Like the one I had before.

Beep! Beep! My body sprawled out and I let out a roar. As my eyes slowly unrolled the truth dawned upon me. Red light crowded the vessel. Shards of glass floated past my aghast face. Lights flashed and flickered, and meters plummeted. My oxygen tank left my reach, “It is over.”

The lights cut. A once red confinement was now an infinite abyss. Objects swept past me; my dazed body drifted through a shattered window. The endless void encompassed me. I begin the endless orbit of the blue marble.

Beep! Beep! My arm flung over to the right. Click! Silence.