Archive for the Fiction Category

Fighting in Public Places

Posted in Fiction on February 17, 2018 by Jarrod Boyle

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Final

I don’t believe in threats. A threat is specific, and knowable. It comes from you, and it’s contained and bordered by words. Fear, however, is personal. It’s amorphous and endless. Like a gas, it expands to fill a space.

“You’re done! You’re done!” said the others.

“I’m done when I say I’m done,” I replied, trying to find his eye. Continue reading

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Fighting in Public Places

Posted in Fiction on February 10, 2018 by Jarrod Boyle

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3.

Jester Mitolo Cabernet Sauvignon from McLaren Vale, South Australia.

She never loved you.  

Further down, Kaysler Cabernet Sauvignon, Barossa Valley.

She never loved you.  

In the next rack, Saltram’s Barossa Shiraz.

She never loved you.

I opted for the Kaysler. Continue reading

Fighting in Public Places

Posted in Fiction on February 5, 2018 by Jarrod Boyle

 

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Maybe she didn’t love me. Worse, all those times we lay in each other’s arms at night, she may have just been doing that so I’d keep paying her registration fees and mobile phone bills. Continue reading

Fighting in Public Places

Posted in Fiction on January 28, 2018 by Jarrod Boyle

 

 

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1.

Night. A depthless, crystalline dark. I was lighting candles when the phone rang.

“Hey Monkey,” I said, “How’s it going?”  Continue reading

Ice-Induced Psychotic Episode: A (More or Less) True Story

Posted in Fiction on February 14, 2016 by Jarrod Boyle

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4

“What happened to your knee?” asked Rush.

“I fell out of a helicopter.”

“Really?” Continue reading

Ice-Induced Psychotic Episode: A (More or Less) True Story

Posted in Fiction on January 30, 2016 by Jarrod Boyle

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3.

“Do you want to come in the ambulance with your partner?”

“Fuck no! He’s not my partner. He’s my housemate.” Continue reading

Ice-Induced Psychotic Episode: A (More or Less) True Story

Posted in Fiction on January 19, 2016 by Jarrod Boyle

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2.

“It’s hopeless!” he said, and when he lifted his face, he was crying.

“What’s hopeless?” I asked.

“I feel so empty!” he said. “I just want it all to end!” Continue reading

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