Ah, there it was. The green rotting lawnmower in the driveway. Like some neglected old man, turned vagrant, that had become stuck on a particularly large stone in the gravel driveway.
15 Jun 2011
The Dark
By Olivia Walton
I always wake up before dawn. Habit. Funny that I don’t remember ever seeing a sunrise. They happen well after I wake but I am never there, watching. Maybe that is strange.
There are no lights in my room. I had them removed. There was no need for them.
Wilfred and the Rat
By Kimon de Greef
It is a week night and Wilfred Fiberglass cannot sleep. He is sitting on the floor in his kitchen with a blanket wrapped around his knees, thinking about the carrots in his vegetable garden. Are they growing, he wonders? As in, are they growing right now? – or, to put it another way, do carrots grow all the time, or do they sometimes stop for a break?
Death Makes a Mockery
By Nicola Lazenby
There is a grass embankment lined with six trees. They separate the houses from the highway that runs from town to the Atlantic ocean. A young boy chooses one specific tree for its handsome branches. They curve up and out in many directions, high up off the ground. From any one of them you can see out to Newlands, over Tokai across the Cape Flats, all the way to the mountains flanking Muizenberg. Sometimes, depending on which way the wind blows, you can smell the sea.
Groenkloof
By Etienne Van Bart
The sky was blue and the air was still above the seven levels of the Groenkloof Tennis Club, which sounded with an Afrikaans - accented woman’s microphone announcements. The brick path that opened up the grounds baked brightly in the midday sun.
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