Laura McPhee-Browne

'I eat all of my dinner; four slices of damp roast pork the colour of a morning tongue, cold peas, boiled carrot slices cut out like Christmas biscuits. Afterwards I doze, and think about what I have left behind – now that I am very old.'

Read 'The Voices of the Magpies' in #153 of Island.

Portrait of Elizabeth Jolley by Mary Moore.

'The pyjamas were a set, and there were tiny spots all over the fabric. I wanted to look at her stomach, to see if it had grown, to believe her, but my eyes were scared. She stood there looking at me, and I stared at her shoulder. The dots on her pyjamas were actually very small stars, and were rather beautiful.'

Read Stomach in the autumn 2018 edition of Meanjin Quarterly.

'She has dreamt of wheat three nights in a row. When she wakes up, she looks first to see whether there are tiny cuts on her hands from stroking the golden stems.'

Read 'In Bitter Dust' in Kill Your Darlings.

Photo of a scene from a theatre adaptation of 'The Chosen Vessel' by Barbara Baynton, performed by the Australian Classical Theatre.

'My insides whooshed, and I jumped a little in my seat, parts of me dancing like streamers. It was Janis Joplin, the heroine of my little life. I should’ve known her, I should’ve known her straight away.'

Read 'The Day I Sat with Janis in the Garden and She Gave Me Her White Fur Hat' in Issue 8 of The Suburban Review.

Oh and here's a tiny interview.

Art by Jess Parker. 

'We were mad, and it was a river washing over us, dragging us wet towards the waterfall.'

Read 'Wet Towards the Waterfall' in Issue 20 of Mascara Literary Review.

Photo of Silvina Ocampo.

'I can’t help looking sad and I imagine my eyes are sagging and he whispers in my ear ‘Give us a smile’ and so I force it, and then it’s stuck there on my face even though I’m 33 and I stopped smiling years ago and maybe I’m fun but this party isn’t and my bed is calling out to me for once despite the alcohol in my bones.'

Read Ain't We Got Fun, in the autumn 2017 edition of Meanjin Quarterly.

Photo of Dorothy Parker with Dog.

'She is mostly mouths now—they gape along her arms and legs and spit out seeds from her stomach and neck.'

Read Banksia, up now in Volume 42 of Literature in North Queensland.

Art by Christian Thompson, 2007. 

'It was important to ignore the body parts Laura saw as she moved along, beneath the countless piles of rotting, blackened snow.'

Read Beneath the Snow Piles, up on the The Puritan's blog, The Town Crier.

Photo of Ruth Rendell.

‘Maternal amnesia would help him keep the house safe and small and quiet. She would thank him in the end.’

Read Grey, up on Feminartsy.

'That night I dream that Mum vomits all over the carpet at the surprise party and makes Mal clean it up with his favourite tea-towel. She's laughing when I wake up, and I can still hear her when I finally begin to fall back into sleep.'

The Surprise was Highly Commended in the inaugural Hope Prize, judged by Kate Grenville, Cate Blanchett and Quentin Bryce. 

Artwork by Rosie Curran.

'She knew this as she shifted down into her bed at night, her legs hanging off the end like the ham that doesn't fit under the bread of a sandwich. She promised herself she would never leave.'

Read The Tallest Girl in the World, highly commended in the Rachel Funari Prize for Fiction 2016, up on Lip Mag.

Photo of Clarice Lispector.

'My mind was tired, and as tentative as a star. I walked down streets I had always known as if they were tangled.'

Read The Bougainvillea Tree, up on Verity La.

'It was fun, and joyful, and almost took away the yearning for a few seconds at a time, between scotch fingers and strong tea and question answering.'

Read Her Last Detox, in Issue Fourteen of Tincture Journal, available here.

Artwork by Sylvia Sleigh: Maureen Connor with Water Lily, 1979.

'She knew she had swallowed rather a lot—warm cider, beer and mildewed liqueur at home in the breakfast room while her son had been bathing and dressing and bowing his tie.'

Read Olam, in the Autumn online fiction edition of Overland.

‘I could hear the trees swishing against his window, his spotted breath. I asked him if he’d ever loved me and he turned his alarm clock radio on.’

Read Lynx Africa up on Scum Mag.

‘Merry is the one that realises what the smell is—on her own, in the nighttime, standing above the toilet with her favourite pale green undies around her shins.’

Read Rot, available for purchase through In Short Publishing Co.

‘It’s a big week at Hungry Jack’s—I do six shifts in seven days and spend the rest of my time thinking about Forest Boy.’

Read Forest Girl in Issue Eleven of Tincture Journal, available for purchase here.

‘I will never forget the two years I spent working in homelessness, with people balancing on the edges of their lives.’

Read my article, My Bloody Heart up on The Writers Bloc.

‘It was a cool day, and waves crawled up and back along the sand like crabs drunk on salt water.’

Read Pig and Bird up on Good Good Girl.

Art by Marine Bucher.

‘Fern gets sick sometimes. It’s a big, heavy sadness in her heart and her head and a jelly in her arms and legs.’

Read When Francis Bacon came to stay up on Writers Bloc along with a tiny interview, or buy a copy of Tincture Journal, Volume 9 where the story was first published.

Artwork by Francis Bacon: Man Kneeling in Grass, 1952.

‘By the time I was seventeen I had this bad habit. It was my secret, and I held it close to me like the newspaper in the rain.’

Read Our Lady Godiva up on Verity La. 

Artwork by Russell Flint: Lady Godiva 2, circa 1950.

'Mary and Dolly seemed bound together, but their feelings for each other were as complex as the ornaments of the sky.'

Read Paper and sand castles in Communion Journal, Volume 2.

‘Every time he decides he will ask her he is given a small waft of her sweat. It is coming out of her in trickles that have dampened the creases of her blouse.’

Read The Collector up on Seizure.

'The ant isn’t sweet. It tastes like blood and grey-lead pencil and she can almost feel its ballooned body slide down her throat.'

Read Sugar Ant up on Seizure.

‘When you were younger, before the cough and the habit, you would have stayed out for nights on end, drinking in cans and the moonlight.’ 

Read Here are the dogs, shortlisted for the Right Now Fiction Competition 2014, judged by Anna Funder and Tony Birch.

Photo by Adnan Khan.

‘Like the eyelashes of a seal, just from the water.’

Read Wednesday is Cooking Day, shortlisted in the Right Now Fiction Competition 2014, judged by Anna Funder and Tony Birch.

Artwork by Felicity Handley.

'I wonder as I lead you into the bathroom, so dreadfully nude and full of bones, whether you know I am leaving soon.'

Read Bathing up on The Suburban Review.

Photo by Todd Anderson-Kunert.

‘Mum flushes pink and happy when she sees us, it hurts my heart a bit. ’

Read The Change Jar up on The Squawk Back.