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Submitted to Contest #302
It was all a huge misunderstanding. And Marnie had started so well. The concierge had rung the bell at the back door. She had struggled with the heavy frame and finally pulled it open to find the young man standing there sheepishly holding up a small cage in which three cats of various ages and sizes had been squeezed. Her expressions reflected a range of emotions like the daily Melbourne weather they had left some months earlier: Surprise, joy, horror and then resignation. Fortunately, Pak Jono, her patient and long-suffering driver was sta...
Submitted to Contest #289
It was stiflingly hot in the MV Clearpool’s aft hold. Situated just above the engine room, the smell of grease, diesel and sweat was overpowering. The four men worked quickly to secure the pallet and release the derrick hook from the net. As they looked up at the retreating cables, their upturned faces blinked in the tropical sun like startled cave dwellers. “Alright Stewy,” the Bosun nudged him in the ribs. Kristiono smiled weakly. Years at sea, physical work above and below decks had given his face a wan look to match his skinny frame. ‘St...
Submitted to Contest #286
Struggle. By Matthew Durban.Pat sat cross legged on the living room floor in the triangle of light from the north facing window. There was not a stick of furniture left in the house save for an old spring mattress which even the debt collection agency had rejected, and a few kitchen utensils. Strewth, they’d even taken the curtains. He sighed and rubbed his face for the upteenth time. He couldn’t quite believe it had to come to this. He always thought things would turn around in the end. ‘A mug's game’, his disappointed father had called it ...
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