Tag: Childhood

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Mercy by Trevor Conway

The boys had gathered for Tristan’s return. Mulligan, a teacher, had driven from Galway through rain that seemed to resent his presence on the road. Rob had taken the train from Dublin. Shaney got a lift from a neighbour in Drumshanbo. And as for Tristan, he trumped them all: there was no beating a twenty-four-hour flight from Australia. (He’d failed to mention the stopover in Kuala Lumpur that broke the journey in two.)

There was no music in the bar. The owner’s son, who normally sang a disorientating selection of country tunes and pop hits, had taken a huff with his father. So the only bit of melody came from excited voices and clinking glasses.

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This Witch is Burning by Teagan Fowlkes

I really don’t remember much of anything anymore. And people always get frustrated when I say that, but if I asked you about something that happened when you were a kid, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell me every single detail either. People forget that memories are slippery. Slippery like you and your friend’s sweaty grips on your bikes’ handlebars on a hot day during summer break. But you wouldn’t remember that. I’m going to try to explain to help you remember because I want you to understand why we did it.

For starters, we were ten.

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Port Hedland by Eesa Manzoor

From the top of the hill, in between the tailor’s and the old pound shop, Rahim thought the tall building on the horizon must be the Sydney Opera House. The geometric slants of the architecture were unlike anything else he’d seen before. He wondered how long it would take to walk there.

His brother took him home. One of the few books they owned was pulled from the back of the cupboard, where it was trapped by a copy of the Yellow Pages—itself several years old and sitting amongst the family belongings for no good reason.

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Room by Alison Wassell

You are compact, says the estate agent, a glorified cupboard say your owners. You are the custodian of cardboard boxes and unwanted wedding gifts. You are magnolia.

You are papered in pink princesses. Cartoon character curtains hang at your window and a homemade mobile of cotton wool clouds and knitted rainbows is suspended from your ceiling. You are filled with laughter and lullabies, crying and crises, the gurgling, giggling growing of your girl.

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Half Past Regret by Rasmenia Massoud

Rhonda downed the convenience store espresso and tossed the can in the backseat as the dashboard clock blinked over to 6:03pm. It clanged and rattled when it joined the others piled on the floor. She popped open the glove box, snatched a handful of yellow Wendy’s napkins and wiped the windshield, which was now covered with a thick nicotine film. The haze might be considered dangerous to most people. To Rhonda, it was an inconvenience. A chore. Another thing she had to do to maintain and upkeep.

Cleaning. Showering. Keeping toenails trimmed. Being alive was a lot of work and it never let up.

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Eternal Wager by Josh Rank

“Why do you do that?”

I turned around, halfway up the stairs, and pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Do what?”

“Slap your leg?”

We were in his basement, which had a same-leg staircase.

“Wanna play horse?” I asked.

He paused for a second, and then said, “Sure,” before running past me up the stairs.

I don’t know how it started, these little games. But they still linger. The initial motivation might be gone, but they’re worn in place. Products of habit. Annoying tics that my wife can’t stand.

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Gold Star by Charlie Jones

Aidy Adler had never received a gold star at school. Three years at Our Lady of Lourdes and not a single star. His teachers rewarded his classmates with stars for the slightest good behaviour: for clearing away their dinner trays after lunch; for not forgetting their PE kits on Wednesdays; for smiling. Every day, undeserving children were rewarded not for exceptional behaviour but for things they were supposed to do.

It was torture for Aidy seeing every purple jumper except his own covered in stars; at home time, he seethed and flushed hot with embarrassment as his classmates rushed to their parents congregated by the school gates, and puffed out their chests, beaming with pride.

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