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Weekly Contest #332
When I was six, my dad left us to go to Auckland. It wasn’t an abandonment, he had tuberculosis. Rural Ngāruawāhia was never going to be able to treat him. If you were going to go to our nearest hospital, you wanted to have functioning lungs. In Auckland, they took half of one of his away.The whanau, led by Koro, my father’s father, decided mum should go too, leaving her three children behind. The older two, my brother and sister, stayed with him and his wife, who we called Skinny Kuia. I went with my Kuia from Mum’s side. I was secret...
Weekly Contest #190
“Speak now.” An invitation to confess to someone else’s crime. Laszlo sat behind his desk, peering over grubby half-moon lenses, a fierce midday sun illuminated a half-cleared fingerprint, the greasy remains of his breakfast sausage. The day’s heat enticed a sheen to his hairless dome, a lone bead meandered toward his jaw, ignored, his hands occupied with a switch, flexing the cruel rod, warming it to the task ahead. In the court of Laszlo, justice is swift, often misplaced. He doesn’t care for the testimony of the inn...
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