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Weekly Contest #363
The misty rain had turned the track into a treacherous, sticky sludge. It clung to Mary’s redbands as she trudged the path with a shlirp-glup, shlirp-glup. In her left hand, the two leashes were taut, vibrating with the frantic, four-legged energy of poodles who had scented a duck. The Waiteti stream was flowing more quickly than normal and had turned a muddy brown. Mary took a deep breath. The cold air was sulphur scented from the onshore Rotorua wind. She thought about the stack of Scrabble tournament flyers waiting at home to be folded an...
Weekly Contest #362
The microwave beeped six times, sounding like a tiny, domestic life-support machine. I chose to ignore it, staring instead into the glassy murk of the oven as if looking for signs of life, or perhaps a miracle."Why didn’t we just get a takeaway from the night market, Stella?" I whispered, clutching a tea towel to my chest like a shield. "Thai requires no carving. Nobody has ever managed to throw a spring roll with lethal force. But lamb? Have you read Roald Dahl? Giving either of those two a sharp instrument right now is simply tempting fate...
Weekly Contest #361
The leaves from the tulip tree are beginning to change colour. They will be falling in a month, but before that happens, I have one last job of the summer, winterise the pool. It’s a five-step process, but today it feels like a tactical retreat.First I have to clear out any leaves and debris that have accumulated since the last clean. I don’t use the pool vacuum although it cost a fortune to buy. This pool doesn’t backwash, so the leaves will end up in the big filter in the pump, and it’s really hard to pull apart. Instead, I use a hand vacu...
The pilgrims had been travelling for many days, and at last were beneath the crumbling terrace, its steps worn smooth with the feet of thousands who had travelled before them. Reverently, they presented their gifts, kneeling humbly before the silver form outlined in the light of the morning sun. They began their chant. Serida. Consort of the Sun, we pray you always return with the light. Five hundred years earlier, the morning pressed hotly against the earth. Serida, clothed in an ethylene glycol silver suit, sat upon the stone terrace over...
Weekly Contest #360
Around Table One, the gallery of the Scrabble Club pressed three rows deep. The air in the hall was thick, smelling faintly of sultana scones, instant coffee, and the sharp energy of the scandalous unspoken. It was the kind of crowd where nobody dared to sigh too loudly for fear of disturbing the layout of tiles on the grid below.Six months ago, Arthur, the undisputed champion of the regional circuit, had been caught with a blank tile quietly palmed in his left hand during the North Island Cup. It was a clumsy bit of chicanery, noticed only ...
ResinThis Scrabble board is bright with possibilities, a grid of things that might be said if only I had the tiles. I chose it because it is not the dull, traditional cream and green. It lies there, bright as a primary-school classroom, waiting to be encased.I have the resin. It arrived in plastic bottles, clear and chemical. I have the turntable—the Lazy Susan—a wooden circle waiting for its revolution. Of course, it is too small. This world is often too small for the games we try to play. To make it fit, I must perform a surgery. I must lo...
Weekly Contest #359
Helen, nursing a gin and tonic that was ninety percent gin, had swiped right mostly because she liked Ruth’s kitchen. It was an island of five spice and oyster swirl marble, looking remarkably clean, whereas Helen’s own kitchen was the size of a broom cupboard and smelled faintly of damp dishcloths. They met at the Event Cinemas Gold Class, where the seats reclined so far back you were practically in a state of clinical repose before the trailers even started. The film was called Incipience. It was one of those high-concept Christopher Nolan...
MemorialShe looked around the room and realised with a shock how separate their worlds had been. She knew no one. Apart from George of course.“We were friends.” The words felt like dry sand, gritty in her mouth.“Really? I thought I knew all Beck’s friends.”Never Beck, Grace thought. Rebecca. A name with corners. Who was this thin woman, with the perfectly applied lip gloss, claiming ownership with a diminutive?“Colleagues,” Grace said, keeping her voice flat. “Rebecca and I shared an office.”“Oh, work.” The woman dismissed it, filing it unde...
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