After they caught me, they buried me in a bowling lane with only my head on the surface, sitting amongst the pins. I try to close my eyes, but I can’t, because I recognize the ball coming towards me and I can see that it wishes there was somewhere else it could go.
Tag: suffering
Blood lamingtons
As the sun set on Jacaranda St, Mrs Jones cut sponge cake into squares and dipped each piece carefully into thick chocolate paste and rolled through the coconut, just as her mother once taught her. But as the shrill of the kettle peaked to a new high, Mr Jones collapsed in his chair, his biscuit falling into his coffee: he was gone at last.