Author Archives: The Concierge

Parent Dream #61

I was looking down from Harper’s bedroom window at the chicken pen in the rear corner of the yard. The light was clear and bright. Harper was in there, just hanging with the chickens. She looked safe, happy, contented in our little suburban backyard world. Suddenly a panel of the rear fence was pulled away […]

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The House I grew Up in

 

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CRACK

Directed by Evan Clarry, written by Annie Morris, starring Barb Fordham, year of production 2000

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room 12

The rooms here suck. I arrived with this waitress from the diner back down the highway. The food wasn’t much. Stale pecan pie and coffee so weak it comes out as piss unchanged. It was late, or early, depending on your perspective. I needed a bed, a place to lie down, watch some bad television […]

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Secret Men’s Business

1 Brendan Callan looked out the window of the Honeymoon Suite of the Cairns Hilton and surveyed the gathering storm clouds clinging to the mountains as they dipped into the brown sea. The Monsoon was coming, he thought to himself, and looked down at his fiancé, her mouth working his cock like it was her […]

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The White Marlin

A mile beyond the edge of the continental shelf, Len Reynolds heaved his guts over the side of a fifty foot game fishing cruiser, a large hand tightly gripping the back of his neck. Len spat a final chunk, and watched his partially digested lunch dissolve into the deep blue depths, knowing that soon he […]

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Mate

The short film Mate written and directed by Evan Clarry in 1998. (Winner of the AFI Award for Best Screenplay, Best Australian Film at Flickerfest and Best Comedy at St Kilda Film Festival)

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view from a window

Guy pulls up in a beat up red car gets out. Middle age spread, worn out Birkenstocks faded polo shirt, still tucked in alone divorced from his wife, from his career, his family but not his self-respect he’ll go down swinging   and he walks down the street with a flimsy daypack and a handful […]

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3 poems about loss

1. (The Geography of Embers) You stare into the coals, through the vast infinite glowing peaks and valleys, roads And caves Like the Taliban’s last refuge. There are places in there where memory lives A moment in time For tomorrow they will become ash Dust The memories like caked mud now Crumbling, bearing an imprint […]

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The Laying Waste

In the garage where his father built bird boxes there was an old chest filled with tools and a folded up tarp. Travis, who was 13, had known for some time that this was where his father hid his Smith and Wesson .38 Special. His father, Jim, joined a pistol club a few years back […]

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