The wheels, the chain, stop turning as the bike comes to a halt, marking the dirt. A new petrol station. Huh. The old trees turn to face him, empathetic, and he looks forward. He’s seen everything here. The chain goes taut, the wheels turn. © Hunter Haigh 2021 This flash fiction piece was written at the Lunchtimes are lit! workshop at Raine Square, run by Night Parrot Press and WritingWA. Hunter Haigh is 16 and has been writing for many years. His works mainly include flash fiction and short stories. Aside from writing, he is a jazz vocalist and an … Continue reading EVERYTHING HE KNEW: Hunter Haigh

THE LEAVING: Terry Finch

I suddenly remember that I don’t remember. I try not to panic. I try not to analyse what this might mean in terms of my mental health – then and now. I have to relax my jaw and keep breathing. I remember what Brenda taught me about breathing through my feelings rather than thinking about them. Yes, analysis. That’s the problem. If only I could suspend the thinking – the endless turning things over, this way and that – as if life were a series of problems and events that could be neatly dealt with by thinking – and then … Continue reading THE LEAVING: Terry Finch


Colin Nichol with mixed feelings over his last mass murder THERE are no gaps in my roof, not around the sides where a rat might get in, nowhere I can find. Yet they do find a way and I’m told it’s because they have the ability to squeeze, to push themselves through narrow gaps just like the quenda who lives behind the shed. But quendas can’t climb as rats do, so there’s no confusion as to which thumps around in the roof space at night, but not lately. Those terrible baits work! Without control they build nests, produce families and … Continue reading RATTLED BY RATTUS RATTUS: Colin Nichol