Short Story
How to Survive Your Brother's Wedding
You're reading this three hours before the reception. That's fine. That's completely fine. Take a breath. I've been where you are standing in a hotel bathroom, tie half knotted, wondering why you didn't write this speech during the six months you've had since your brother asked you. But we don't have time for self-reflection. We have work to do.
By Tim Carmichael10 days ago in Fiction
Nothing but Voice
“Do we end up together? In the end?” “In a certain reality, you may.” “We may?” “Life is unpredictable. That’s something everyone forgets. People live and people die and so many things happen in between life and death. There’re multiple different ways your life could go, but I can’t say for certain. You could die in a car crash. Become paralyzed. Your story could end here. Dead in a hospital bed.”
By Gianna Montiel10 days ago in Fiction
Biophilic design blends. Nature and architecture collide in concepts, healing and soothing of our general lifestyle.
Concept and Understanding of biophilic design Sometimes we step into a room filled with lush greenery or natural light and feel instantly at ease? The ambience soothes, eliciting an almost instinctive “ahhh”. This moment is thanks to biophilic design - the practice of bringing elements of nature into our built-in environment.
By Antoni De'Leon10 days ago in Fiction
How to eat Cornflakes
I grew up in a blue-collar suburb flanked by factories. We were the only Asians within a two-mile radius. Our neighbours were men dressed in hi-vis vests, cargo pants, steel-capped boots and either hard hats or hair nets. They would pour out of their steaming boiler rooms at the sound of the smoko whistle, empty truck palettes becoming makeshift seats for them to perch on as they wolfed down their salami and cheese sandwiches in a few ravenous chomps. Their wives would pack them cool drinks in summer, and thermoses of hot tea during the bleak winter months, when daylight savings would cloak the world in longer stretches of darkness. Mind you, it didn’t make much difference to the workers in the windowless factories. At the end of each day, they would stream out of the factories like ants making their way back to their respective queens who were waiting dutifully at their single-storey fibro nests with their supper of meat and three veg. The asbestos poisoning and lawsuits by dying men and their soon-to-be-widows came later; though that is a different story. Ditto the chemical leaks into the local water supply.
By Paris Rosemont10 days ago in Fiction
A Breeze I Wish To Forget
The pictures upheld itself to Natajra’s standard as the driver cruises through the city. The skies were pretty, it wasn’t too hot or too cold outside, and the garden and palms trees were absolutely beautiful. Natajra pinched herself wondering if she was in heaven. “Ouch!” She whispered to herself as she rubs the tiny pain away.
By Devond Devoe11 days ago in Fiction
