Fortnightly Fiction

I was scooping the guts out of a lamb when I heard Swinger Dingavan was dead. Maureen shouted across at Steve-o and he knocked off the power hose, the wool and blood circling around him. She said Swinger was found in his Golf with a…

I can’t stand the Land Armers – everyone knows they are the worst. Me, I’m just a regular Street Warden. I do the job, sure, but not per their style. This street person, I saw him right out on the pavement, begging in broad daylight. He…

They leave the hotel ballroom soon after midnight, last out into the night except for the band. Two couples in their best clothes, elderly, exhausted but content, drunk with laughter; the men, James and Charlie, wearing tuxedos that have…