The Night

A morning short after a morning shot.

The Night audio:

Staring into the light of his phone, sleep was eluding Sawyer. It was three in the morning. He rummaged the bedside table for relief.

He was huddled under the covers, flicking emptily between shopping emails, the news, and mindless celebrity gossip. He felt an overbearing sense of unease and chaos. The consumption was proving to be a pointless distraction.  

It was as if he’d been stalked, today and almost every other day for the last year or so. An invisible intruder managing to enter his home night after night and violate him. Ripping into his mind, merciless in its goal, as he lay. The comfort that had been his sanctuary—his bed, time that was his only, the part of life he cared for—destroyed.

How could he be this weak? How was he allowing this? Why was he powerless?

Questions, he knew no answers. 

His jaw clenched and another silent cry fell into the blackhole of the night.

His mind captained a ship that wouldn’t steer. A crewless mess with a wayward fate.

Maybe he was going overboard with things. He had certainly thought about it.

The warmth vanished. Chills swept through him and droplets of cold sweat appeared over his naked body. He was shaking. Shallow breaths misted the screen in front of him as his torso tightened. Anxious eyes moved abruptly. Exhausted arms wrapped around the bolster as he buried himself deep under the covers.

Except for the light eminating from his phone, everything was black. 

Like the joke of a life he was living.

Darkness so easily manifested​. 

His humour had graduated to a level of bleakness that mirrored his outlook on life. It accorded pitiful dividends: the occasional, disingenuous half-smile of resignation, sanction to fill his lungs for just another day more.

Unsteadiness took hold for a second. The murder of crows he had summoned had arrived. Engulfing his mind in a cloak of black. Gifting him with wings, just as he had imagined. He would fly. Waves of euphoria like nothing he’d felt rushed at him. 

Warm benevolent hands greeted his face with tenderness, brushing away stray hairs on his face. Tears fell for the smiling assassin.

The day would break again tomorrow. 

But tonight, the night was over.


He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. 

It didn’t matter. 

There were black birds singing.

Suddenly inspired Writing that can be taken multiple ways is how I’ve always wanted to write. I feel that everyone comes at the world from a different perspective. Who’s to say why we think the way we think? Why we feel the way we do—differently, uniquely? 

Each perspective is like a pixel in a photo that no one will ever see. To present that there is one ‘right way’ for everyone, one hue in a spectrum of infinite colours, is hubris, judgmental—but that’s just this human’s opinion though. 🙂

Everyone has their reasons. Whatever their reasons. 

AudioME: Quick Cover Blackbird

My Flight Attendant Voice Impression at Kings Park

My recorded version:

Meandering Musings Audio:

What this fairly grounded human does in her spare time…

Flight attendant voice impressions!

I’d been thinking of doing this, so have a go I did! An incredible amount of fun it was taking this during lunch.

I’d decided a break out of the breakroom was needed. Enthused, I’d hopped across to Kings Park and, as you do, put to use that awfully amazing piece of technology: the mobile selfie cam.

(As an aside, two things. First, I appreciate that hogging the lookout for a good minute or two, I may have looked like a complete tourist (my ancestry perhaps not being overly helpful in this regard). Well, that, or, like, you know, like, totes self-absorbed. Or both. I’m ambivalent as to doing anything, really, that would disprove of either possibility, though suggestions savouring of subtlety​, I’m all ears.

Second, I appreciate that I committed a massive crime by shooting in portrait mode. Yes, I know, terrible; but no regrets, my list of trivial regrets is regrettably packed to the rafters. For instance, I live regretting every pack of McVities Chocolate Digestives I go through, which is a great many and which has made for a continuing battle. Enough to make attendance at McVities Anonymous, if it were a thing, worthwhile. Could there be more of us? Nonetheless, I simply have run out of space on the list.)

With the air as fresh as it was, each inhalation crisping the insides of one’s schnozzle, the sun peeking out from hardly-pregnant clouds, the birds singing sweet songs of freedom, the classic words of Darryl Kerrigan echoed in my mind.

How’s the serenity. Indeed, how was the serenity!

So much serenity.

I still can’t think of a better way to describe it.

The remarkable levels of serenity were conducive to deep thoughts. Shallow thoughts.

All kinds of thoughts… ‘Did I leave the oven on? Surely not? I didn’t, did I? Oh lordy. I’ll go with hoping the house is still there.’ Dammit disruptive thoughts, symptoms of self-doubt. Good thing you’re treatable. Taken in moderation, Cadbury’s I’ve found has rather dramatic, uplifting effects.

I took a seat on a bench that needed company, taking in the marvellous surrounds – and also the meat pie I’d bought which by this stage had suffered a huge drop in temperature and was on the brink of needing an emergency re-microwaving.

The setting today, a photo couldn’t have done justice.

Maybe it was my imagination running wild: a side effect, caused by sudden exposure to unfettered natural light and the unusual duration of sustained bipedal locamotion, commonly known as taking a break away from the desk. I digress.

Going out on a limb, I would say that there was a certain aura in the air.

Something I could feel and see, touch, smell and taste.

It was the profoundness of the City meeting the bush in a vivid depiction of harmony in modern Australia. The melding of lifestyles, the ways of the new and the old, the traditional and the contemporary. The riptides of a balancing act to preserve freedoms and determine how best common goals and ideals can be achieved. The displays of mateship through adversity, unity through diversity. The enjoyment of the Park, and its pristine, organic quality, delivered in spades through native flora, expansive greenery, and its unmatched view of the City.

It was the now-faintly pleasant aroma of perfume that had made it beyond the travesty it had been hours ago when I’d left for work, clothes bearing the aftermath of unintentional overspritzing.

It was the chewy bits of cartilage in my beef pie that I’d convinced myself must have been part of some creative cheffy initiative to accentuate pie texture.

Sensory overload drew forth feelings and musings of hope, reflection, renewal…

‘Sometimes, when the world seems dark, rays of sunshine manage, little by little, to make their way through.

Reminders of a better world. A world that could be. A world with the kind of happiness we all dream about.

That, maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to life than how and what we’ve lived to date.’

An annoying buzzing noise interrupted what could’ve been the first lines of my maiden self-proclaimed, self-help book bestseller.

A fly? No, unfortunately not.

Just my phone alarm. Twenty minutes was up. Time for my return.

Ah QANTAS, I’d do this for free, anyday.

I guess, in the ittiest-bittiest way possible I very-maybe-just-kinda do, already.

Make that: I’d do this anyday. 😉