Short Stories

Aunt Matilda’s Party Dress

Jena Woodhouse

It was one of those increasingly rare occasions for us, a family gathering. Not the whole clan, which is pretty humungous. It was spur-of-the-moment. My mum, my brothers and I decided to go and wish Mum’s sister, Nance, a happy birthday. We didn’t have any money for a present, but we’ve got used to not having money for stuff like that since Dad’s been gone, so Mum simply got down to it and did her usual birthday thing: made a cake and some Anzac biscuits, and off we went.

We’d just demolished the cake, all gathered round in the kitchen with Aunty Nance’s husband and kids, when we heard somebody yoo-hooing through the living-room, and who should appear in our midst but Aunt Mat...
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Murder in Underdown Road

Sharon Kernot

Underdown Road is where you hear screams in the middle of the night and sometimes in the middle of the day. Not long ago, a murderer lived around the corner. He buried seven children under the floorboards in a cellar. You can’t see the house now; it’s just a vacant lot with scraped red earth. The council sent bulldozers to knock the house down because they said that no one would ever want to live there. Trucks came and carted grey rubble away. When I stood with the quiet crowd of neighbours that gathered to watch, I thought I heard the sound of screaming and whenever I saw a flash of white, I wondered if it were the glint of bone. I don’t like cellars or dark corners any more...
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Beneath the Red Balloon

Kate Letheren

I stare at her across the table, trying to see what she truly was…I thought I had figured it all out, but she was full of surprises. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be shocked at anything she did now; she only came to me when she had an identity crisis of some kind. I sighed, looked at her again. She didn’t look any different, maybe a little more tired? Her eyes were red from a night of shuddering crying and her hands made agitated patterns in the air.

“I just didn’t see it coming Ana, you know? It was like one day I was his perfect little wife, young and beautiful – everything he wanted! The next day he shrank from me, said I was holding him back, I was growing old and changing and I–I—” With this she slipped back into her sobbing and I was compelled to squeeze her arm gently and murmur soothingly, like she was a child who’d fallen. I really don’t know why she comes to me with this, it’s not like we’re friends or anything like that. In fact, I am indifferent to her and her struggles with men or life. I just quietly sit with her while she cries and perhaps that’s what she needs...
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