She is, there—amongst the Mango Trees—a Flytrap Garden

Here’s a flash prosetry piece of mine which appeared in Verse Kraken in 2014! The formatting in this inspired me to do “stone”, my twine poem.

“She is, there—amongst the Mango Trees—a Flytrap Garden”
by Penny Stirling

For the summer holidays she goes north to her girlfriend's family's mango farm
of         parental introductions and appraisal—oh, scriptwriting? many jobs?
           red dust, sweat, spiders, mosquitoes and flies, wondering if she'll make it 'til New Year's.

bit overwhelmed but okay!
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More Embers than Feathers Filled the Firmament

My consonance-based story “More Embers than Feathers Filled the Firmament” is online for everyone to read in Lackington’s issue 4! With stunning art by Kat Weaver! *___* There is some beautiful prose in this issue, as there has been in the previous issues! I’m so happy to be part of such a luscious endeavour.

(A-and it got such a nice review at Clavis Aurea, bwee!)

One note for the curious: “carnivore demon ducks” refers to the extinct Bullockornis planei, nicknamed the “Demon duck of doom”, the 2.5 metre tall carnivorous duck. There’s a collection of them at Kings Park.

I wrote a bit about the journey of “More Embers” earlier, and there’s the very short genesis of the birds’ war if you would like some more weirdy birdy words.

I don’t know anything about wagtails outside of Australia (didn’t even knew they existed until a few months ago!) but it’s difficult to imagine life without willie wagtails. They’re tiny, adorable, inquisitive and utterly fierce. They’ll attack any kookaburras, magpies (also wow non-Australian magpies are weird, I don’t know how youse cope), crows, falcons, eagles that get too close to their nests. And they’ll follow you around the garden as you weed, hopping about and wagging back and forth.


The Secret at Long Canyon

The Secret at Long Canyon
prompt-based, sword & sorcery, nakama; 2011; 950 words

digital picture

To say that they had let their guard down was an understatement even larger than the danger they currently faced. They had been carefree — their chatter verging on celebratory — and even Imoguin had sipped some of Swikae’s whisky.

Imoguin would not wake up now. Swikae clutched at the mage lying on her lap, relieved that at least she still breathed.
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Mango Flies and Body Lies

A flash story of mine appears in issue 2 of Verse Kraken amongst the poetry and photographs and performances. With a very silly title, here is She is, there—amongst the Mango Trees—a Flytrap Garden, a tale of summer experiences. And by that I mean summer bugs. (It’s an image rather than text; if there are accessibility issues and you’d like to read it, please let me know and I’ll arrange something!) Verse Kraken had a launch party which I couldn’t attend, all the more sadly after reading Alex’s write-up.
I had been preparing to talk about how strange it feels, writing such a summery story in summer and rereading it in autumn and feeling nostalgia but NOPE this week has been hot and humid and I have seen too many mosquitoes and there are cyclones in the news.

I was supposed to have another flash piece published in December, and a poem in January. I’ve heard one is hopefully on the way soonish; the other one’s status is a terrible mystery! Frustratingly I’ve not been writing as much as I would like. I seem to start getting some headway into treating one health issue and then another acts up for attention. One thing I have done recently was a poem quite unlike any I’ve written before, which was quite exciting! Hopefully it can find a home.


Sun Words

Sun Words
australiana, fantasy, summer; 2011; 700 words

It is the longest day of the year. She has waited for today’s sunrise not just since she was abducted from her bed several hours ago, but since she was a child.

Or so the priests said.

She is chained to the stone slab. A quill pen is tied to her right hand. The sky begins to lighten. The priests bow one more time and leave her on the hill. They will come back at sunset. For her work, at least; there is no guarantee that she will last until then.
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A Wagtail’s Wail

A Wagtail’s Wail
fantasy, surrealism, birds; 2007; 200 words

“To wit!” wailed a Willy-tail. “Westward toward wild laid-back drawling droving brethren we wish. Whether we shall sever summer’s ever-very-vast straining constriction never will we know. When wily coyote to canyons cavernous sent the Swan twins searching, gnarly gnome-nemesis satan assailed our silver city tree, each leaf laid down with yon wild betrayal twisting aside safe nests. Stunned, soon stenching, once-starry stencils staunchly stemmed the drawn demon tide.”
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