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Weekly Contest #378
Roger Webb signed his name on the logbook at 11:58 PM, two minutes early, the way his father had taught him. Show up before you're needed. It was good advice for a first day, even a first day at a job nobody wanted. "You'll be fine," said Gary, the security guard finishing his shift. He was already shrugging into his jacket. "Quietest job in the city. Nothing in here's done anything in ten thousand years. Not about to start tonight." He laughed at his own joke, the sound swallowed fast by the marble lobby, and then he was gone, and the door ...
Weekly Contest #372
Probably Nothing, Just the Wind In the year 1870, Michael and Elizabeth Johnson arrived in Adelaide, South Australia on the sailing ship ‘Monsoon’. They took up residence in a small flat in North Adelaide until Michael, with his experience in communications in England, secured a position working on the Overland Telegraph Line, a monumental project that promised to eventually connect the vastness of Australia back to England. After 12 months, Michael and Elizabeth left Adelaide by train, bound for Port Agusta to the north, and then travel ov...
Weekly Contest #342
I once knew an attractive young Chinese woman, well, quite a beautiful young woman was she, who had a special gift. When she changed into someone else’s clothes, she took on that person’s identity and character. She delighted in purchasing clothes from second hand shops and seeing where the identity would lead her. Up until I last saw her, it had all been just a game, nothing serious, until she found this particular second hand clothing shop…. Edith had never noticed the small shop displaying the name ‘Preworn Clothing’ before. Not surprisin...
Weekly Contest #336
The Great Bathurst Debate "G’day mate. ‘Ow yar goin’?" "Yeah, good mate. ’Avin’ a beer?” “A beer? A beer? Why would you stop at one? “Good point, Baz. Go a pot?” “Sounds the go, Mate, ‘its ‘ot enough out there. Cheers, Davo." "No worries. So, you watching Bathurst this year?" "Is the Pope Catholic? Course I am. Wouldn't miss it for quids." "Reckon Brock'll take it out again?" "Brock? Peter Perfect himself? Mate, he's got it in the bag. That Commodore's a weapon. Nine wins, Davo. Nine bloody wins. The King of the Mountain." "Yeah, well, even ...
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