Short Stories


The pub was busy as it always is on a Friday night. A group of men were standing right at the centre, dressed in gold-and-green jerseys, cheering in front of the big screens as the Wallabies scored their first Try of the match, knowing this might be the highlight of the evening. A few couples gathered on the other end around a bottle of champagne, celebrating something which seemed to be rather special. Ben stepped in with a couple of mates from work, and with no hesitation walked straight to the bar.


Did you hear that? He said ‘G’day’. The fuck’n immigrant is using Aussie slang.

Coughing Fit

It was ready. Finally. Just in time for the guests. The old hardwood table they had bought at Pottery Barn a few years back, after hesitating for a year, thinking that dining table with its colonial design and old school feel would add so much presence at the centre of their cosy brick veneer home. On the table a set of grey plates in three different sizes were laid out, indicating we are in for a long meal. Surrounding the table were twenty chairs precisely. Though there was no sense of unity among them. Some chairs had the same hardwood colour indicating they may belong to this room on a permanent basis. Others were white and modern, with a soft back and padded seat, as if they have arrived from a Better Homes and Gardens journal.

Standing in the Rain

Standing in the rain, waiting. Joey didn’t mind the rain, although it was pouring pretty hard for the last twenty minutes or so. But he didn’t care. The sound of big drops tapping on the concrete, on top of cars moving along the road, on Joey’s half-broken umbrella. That noise was overshadowed by the voice inside his head. She will turn up. She will. She has to.