Archive for the Fiction Category

Suicidal Thoughts

Posted in Fiction, Reading, Real Men with tags , , on September 17, 2019 by Jarrod Boyle

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3.

“I thought I would swim out until I was too tired to swim back. As I paddled on, my heartbeat boomed like a dull motor in my ears. I am I am I am.

P. 152

I watched my grandmother Joanna die, day by day. Continue reading

Rodney Hall: A Stolen Season

Posted in Fiction, Reading, Real Men with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 16, 2019 by Jarrod Boyle
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At the gym – working on the gun show.

Rodney Hall is one of Australia’s greatest living writers. He has been nominated for the Miles Franklin Award seven times and if he wins this year, it’ll be the third time he’s gone home with the prize.

I have known him for eighteen years and he never fails to deliver on the subject of literature. He has been kind enough to wax lyrical at the Theme Park on matters literary and a few others that happen to intersect within his purview. 

T.P: I’m guessing that if the Miles Franklin Award was predicated on biceps, you’d win that. Continue reading

The Worst First Date in the History of the World

Posted in Fiction, sexual misadventure, Writing with tags , , on October 9, 2018 by Jarrod Boyle

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There is something confronting about the disembodied voice of a stranger on the telephone, particularly when it’s someone you may fall in love with. Continue reading

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

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

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