Biker Gang - Anna

I had recently arrived in Tasmania for a holidays at my parent’s place. I was walking back to their place from the shops, when I noticed a motorbike parked in their driveway. No one had said anything to me about it, so I thought it might have been my brother’s.

That afternoon, I was on the computer and noticed two suspicious people ride past on a motorbike. As they rode past, they looked at our house. I thought this was very strange.

A day or two later, I noticed that the bike that was parked in the driveway had gone. Every now and then looked out my old bedroom window to keep an eye on things.

A few days later, looking out the window, I saw a small yellow dirt bike parked on top of the shed. It had an L plate on it. I thought it strange that a learner would park his beloved bike on our shed. Just then, a gust of wind blew the bike down onto the driveway. Later that afternoon, I noticed the strange people on their bikes drive past several times. I looked out my bedroom window and saw that the yellow bike had gone.

Now I knew what was happening. Some biker gang was using our garage to store stuff they’d stolen so they could pick it up later. Over the next day, no more objects were place din the driveway, but I did see people drive past several times, and also a yellow Volvo station wagon drive past with a man in who had red hair and a red moustache and looked like he was from the wild wild west.

I got quite scared so I told my brother what I thought was happening. He said he’d noticed the bikes parked on the property and he’d also seen the yellow Volvo slowly drive past occasionally. He sat with me on the veranda for a while, watching these people drive by. He had to go to uni, so he gave me $50 incase I had to make a run for it. I was so scared. Too scared to leave the house, but too scared to stay.

Location: Imagination Station - Anna

Bastard Tales - Chapter 2 - Sarah Ranft

Jeremiah lent again the wall of the coffee house, and tucked his chin into his coat. It was so cold that his eyeballs hurt, and his breath came out of his nose in steamy draughts. Fortunately Carly had gone over to Samara’s to study tonight, so he was free to roam the streets as he pleased. It didn’t feel like such a great idea now though. It was dark, and anyone with any sense was walking quickly home, or towards an intimate restaurant dinner. The waves danced against the dock in rhythmic blackness, oblivious to the anxiety and pursuits of others. He watched the moths humming around the street lights, and kept waiting.

A tug of his elbow brought him out of his icy trace. Adrienne stood there in a forest green duffle coat, her red hair ruffled by the wind. Her cheeks were mauve and her made-up features were sunken with cold. They walked inside and moved the cumbersome wooden chairs to sit opposite each other. Adrienne removed her fingerless gloves, laid them on the table and gave Jeremiah a friendly smile as they both started to thaw.

There was a naked pause. Jeremiah’s mind shriveled with panic as he tried to think of something to say.

“Did you book your holiday to Brazil?” Adrienne’s tone was polite, if not slightly unconvincing. Jeremiah rolled his eyes and chuckled. Surely this was not a line of conversation they needed to pursue with any seriousness. Her facial expression remained quite solemn. This was her occupation after all, and he’d been wasting her efforts for some time.

The conversation lurched along awkwardly. Adrienne was named after Adrian Zach, a famed seventies philanthropist that her mother took a fancy to, and had apparently met at a Governor’s Afternoon Tea. No relationship or fling there though, Adrienne just bore his name from a passing admiration. Not to be deterred by her disappointing origins, Jeremiah probed further. If only to cover any pause in conversation.

Her parents were still married and had always lived in Melbourne. Her father had been in an industrial accident which hurt his back about ten years ago and now lived on compensation payments. He sounded to Jeremiah to have one of those existences entirely complete with just a television - mainly cricket and golf, and a fussing wife. Her mother owned a plant nursery but only worked part time these days, and cooked and cleaned religiously for her household in her spare hours. How can some people’s purposes be entirely spent, save for the passive commitment of parenthood? Jeremiah could not imagine his autumn years in barely consuming occupation, with an ageing, silly partner, while his children pursued love and establishment for the same outcome. It all seemed so sedentary and…tired. To be gored by a bull at a rodeo in Portugal, he thought instantly. That was a colorful, spectacular exit of which he could feel proud. Posthumously.

Adrienne was not studying either, which brought him some comfort. She had been working at the travel agent for three years and had no plans to leave. Was she saving towards anything special? She had bought a block of land, which Jeremiah realised was part of one of those dreadful artificial villages complete with lagoon on bare, flat land in outer West Melbourne. She was building a house, no doubt one of six possible beauties which exactly complemented the rest of the budding township.

The coffee was sipped slowly and the cake mashed into forks. Organic, vegetarian desserts always tasted slightly stale to Jeremiah, as if being displayed and consumed gradually for several weeks added kudos. He paid reluctantly and they walked out.

Adrienne needed to drive home, so they sat in the front of her rusting silver Datsun to keep warm while the evening reached a end. The seats smelt sour and the upholstery was crusted from years of use. Their breath mingled against the windscreen and both stared out at the streetlights and approaching mist. This was painful. Jeremiah couldn’t believe this meeting had retained the awkward chill from her place of employment - he just thought she’d be different when they struck up a friendship. He stared at her, moved closer until darkness obscured their sight, felt her cold nose against his.

Her mouth tasted like yoghurt icing and polenta, thin lips which held their poise and small, smooth teeth. He breathed deeply and pushed against her to increase her hunger, but she sat collected, firm. Jeremiah held his mouth against hers, moved the folds of her coat aside and grasped her boyish body. His hands reached under her soft jumper to find thin, smooth skin under which ribs jutted awkwardly, a small lacy teenage bra which cradled the hint of breasts. He moved his hips off the seat, across the gearstick, and moving the seat horizontal, laid his body awkwardly over hers. He was aware he was breathing too hard all over her face from the effort. Adrienne cleared her throat and calmly closed her eyes.

This felt so wrong, a shrinking regretful wrong. Jeremiah studied her face in the cool light from the street, looking for a sign, a response.

“I should probably get going… I have a girlfriend and she’s probably wondering where I’ve got to.”

This was probably the only honest statement Jeremiah had made to them both in the time they’d been acquainted. He was aware that it made him look like a fool, that he’d pursued this woman for little reason, initiated sex with her and had now mentioned his partner. He felt like a teenager, a child who had a girlfriend who wanted to marry him.

“Ok, well…it was really nice to see you again. Come in and say hi if you’re ever nearby.”

Adrienne’s cordiality upset him. She held a mystery in her guardedness, but he sensed that the escape, the adventure with her had never started. Jeremiah moved back into his seat, feeling the warmth from her body quickly drain from his legs and torso. He kissed her on the cheek and opened the car door.

“I’m……really sorry if I…”

Sorry. Just disappointed. He closed the door and walked home.

Carly’s face was illuminated blue near the table lamp as she played computer cards. She glanced at him but the interest wasn’t there.

“Chris and some of the guys from work went down the road to play pool so I hung out with them for a while.”

Jeremiah studied the instant memory of his lie…too much detail? Awkward tone. Said too soon. He leant again the wall of the front door hallway and watched Carly thinking, moving her cards about. She showed no sign of having heard him so he continued down the hall towards their bedroom. Their bed felt different, no longer natural and inviting, but cold, definitely cold. Like a friend who starts to blank you in the street and spread snide rumours. Carly still wasn’t in bed when he finally succumbed to sleep, but this wasn’t unusual. She often stayed up reading, aimlessly researching strands of online interest deep into the night.

The next day was Jeremiah’s day off. This meant that Carly would expect them to spend most of it together, and although neither of them ever intended it, there would be a fight. Jeremiah and Carly often talked at length about what they wanted to do together when they both had the time, but when the hours lay starkly laden with expectation ahead of them, the motivation crumbled and it was easier to burden each other with disappointment.

Today seemed different however. The sun was gently pressing again the aging architecture, and several people were jogging along the promenade in tightly banded thermals. The coffee house was cluttered with friends, smoking and sipping with elaborate gestures, immersing themselves in a post-Winter buzz. Jeremiah and Carly had a comfortable stride along the morning footpath, a pair who knew each other’s rhythm. The fresh, metallic taste of cleansed Melbourne air was exciting, foreboding and delicious.

One street surrendered to a sprawling market on this day every week, the smell of kebabs, potatoes and furniture oil on bookshelves and chopping boards. The overhead sunproofing sails hugged the assortment of stalls, making the browsing feel intimate and secluded. Carly ran her fingers across tendrils of plastic beads, smiling appreciation at the store owners. She picked at rings, and bought one, a silver alloy with a large bulb of pale quartz which immediately adorned her thumb. Jeremiah watched her as she roamed, transfixed by jewellery which was transporting her mind to India, Phuket or some other bohemian eden. He waited, not impatiently as she wandered and touched, flipped through pirated cds, lifted up metal sculptures made of forks. Her calm concentration was engaging, the way she considered the wares of the store owners and cackled supportingly at their jokes. Carly’s long mousy hair was tucked behind her small ears, from which swayed elaborate jade earrings. Her face disappeared behind her mouth when she laughed, and Jeremiah could see most of her teeth and her pierced tongue. She was tall for a girl, and had an awkwardly slim physique, as though her top half wasn’t properly joined to her bottom. She wore a layered plum skirt that Jeremiah hated. He knew from her stories that a former boyfriend had bought it for her during a latin street festival and they had danced, shimmied a summer away on his roof terrace listening to Nina Simone and Carlos Santana. Bastard.

They sat together on a bench and ate plump grey German sausages and onions. Jeremiah was getting tired, his feet feeling heavy, his back aching. His gaze skimmed over the heads of the crowd until one sight almost forced the lunch back up his throat. A puff of red hair, a green coat trickled through the throng of people. Jeremiah started breathing deeply, quietly. He turned and fixed on Carly, giving her a grimy sausage kiss on the cheek and rubbing her back. It was almost enough to distract him from looking back…but he glanced up quickly and the red hair had vanished.

“Let”s get. The hell out of here.” muttered Jeremiah. This mood always irritated Carly, whenever they were outdoors and he wanted to go home quickly. It happened a lot and he was not open for questioning about why. She scooped up her trinkets and marched in the direction of home, expecting Jeremiah to reach and maintain her pace. He arrived alongside her and reached for her hand, but she pulled away. This gesture signaled the onset of a common condition between them, a distancing fog which neither wanted to clear. It was at these times that Jeremiah thought about her fantastical ideas for a wedding and a baby, and how she should probably be with a hairy ape man who would celebrate her zeal for the natural world. They could raise a naked family on a diet of plants in far North Queensland.

“Why aren’t you ever interested in just hanging out with me, at the markets, or down at the coffee place. Why do you want to go home all the time, but when you‘re there, you just spend it on THE COMPUTER?” Carly’s anger spilt over, and her darkening expression signaling the onset of something far from civilised.

Jeremiah sighed. This was a boring, boring line of questioning, and no answer would be acceptable. He had enough to think about at the moment, images of cold, ungainly kisses and a appalling effort to fuck someone coursed fresh through his mind like a migraine.

The argument was kicked and tossed between them over the afternoon as they arrived home and resumed their habits. He made fruit toast, sat down and ate, and made more, even though he had no appetite and the richness of the butter made him feel sick. Carly was right. He didn’t particularly want to spend mindless time with her. That sort of activity was only suitable for one person on their own. A consuming grip on a set of punishing mental images, and a desperate need to know what had gone wrong.

Something Weird Just Happened - Anna

I just got home from doing the shopping. I heard "I came from Alabama" playing. It sounded like a polyphonic ringtone. It sounded really close. I looked around the house. Was it the XBox? Alarm? Did we somehow have ringtones on our landline now? It stopped after 20 seconds or so.

Then my mobile rang. Didn't recognise number.
Me: "Hello?"
"What the hell's that?"
"Hello?"
"What the hell's that?"
Then they hung up.

I was stunned.

Bastard Tales - Chapter 1 - Sarah Ranft

Cheese has never been orange, thought Jeremiah as he removed the steaming saucepan from the stove. The tender packet macaroni made a sloppy, bubbling noise when he stirred it, which was both comforting and sickening. This was not real food, and certainly not real dairy. He left it on the bench to congeal.

The shadows were long in the courtyard outside now. Too late to be having lunch. Carly would know that he’d slept in again. Sitting at the kitchen table, he lifted the laptop screen and opened Facebook, not knowing how many times that day he had already repeated this action. Facebook was his friend and derailing, defeating nemesis. A loathing fatigue overcame him as he looked at the photos and tales of past acquaintances. Venezuela, Zaire, Alaska. It seemed to be the goal of his class to spread themselves to the geographical limits, like margarine over bread. Jeremiah repeated these countries to himself. They all looked so buoyant, smiling in bikinis, winter coats and sunglasses.

A shadow over the front door and rustling of plastic signaled Carly’s return home. Jeremiah quickly shook off his mood and scanned the kitchen for signs of slovenliness. She was not going to be impressed that he’d missed work today for no reason. He quickly decanted the macaroni into two plates to distract her with an early supper. Carly bustled down the hallway and dropped shopping bags on to the bench. Her breathy kiss on his cheek smelt faintly of incense.

“What’s going on, why aren’t you at work?” she asked as they sat down together to eat the pasta.

“I told Chris I had a family emergency.” Jeremiah said sheepishly. He had felt in his bones this morning that going to work was not a possibility, and short of developing any real illness, he had twelve hours remaining to put together a convincing narrative for his boss tomorrow.

Carly sighed. “I’m surprised he believed that since your whole family’s in Adelaide. Aren’t you going to ask me how my day went?”

There was a good chance Jeremiah would not be enthralled with these details either. Carly was two years into her course in Natural Medicine, a pursuit that he neither cared for, nor saw an illustrious future from. When they first met, her spiritual dancing and passion for alternative remedies lent her an air of mystique and defiance. Jeremiah was also grateful to move from South Australia to Melbourne so that she could study here. The interest in her career had quickly faded however, and he nodded vaguely as she regaled him today with her new facts about tongue health and the dangers of eating grains. Surely fake cheese macaroni was not a desired part of her diet then.

Carly’s wealthy parents had provided their daughter with steady financial support as they settled into Melburnian life - a key element to her appeal for Jeremiah. He couldn’t help but think however that she had brought an end to this opulent family dynasty by becoming a tree-hugging witch doctor. Was this the future, the couple life, he really wanted? Carly often hinted about getting married, which regularly produced mental images of some sort of nude, forest commitment ritual. Children was a far greater nightmare. As they lay in bed that night and he felt her knees nudging his legs open, he reached into the bedside drawer. There was no chance of them starting a future family together if he could help it.
……….

The morning brought new dread; the emergency story. Jeremiah walked warily into the large, budget seafood restaurant which provided him with an income and a barely interesting social network. Most of his table staff peers were students balancing their working hours with study in real estate, economics or tourism. Jeremiah told himself that his goals were more travel-based, even though his efforts to save so far would not have bought him a plane ticket to the next suburb.

“My great uncle had a stroke and my mother was on the phone to me the whole night.” Jeremiah said carefully when confronted by his boss, searching his facial expression for signs of compassion and understanding. Instead he was met with a slight smirk and a pat on the back. Jeremiah felt slight anger and self-pity, this could be a very difficult time for an especially close family. Lucky the distress was not greater.

The lunch rush was morose. Winter did not inspire a large amount of people to eat fish and chips, or a basket of prawns. A break in the afternoon afforded him a walk in the milky, chilly sunlight, towards a familiar sight in the busy plaza. Jeremiah’s legs felt weak and his posture awkward. There she was.

Her hair was short, a natural red. She had a boyish figure, well concealed under an ill-fitting uniform shirt. Jeremiah had never figured out why she was so attractive to him, sitting at her desk typing in brief bursts and handing over brochures to customers. He already had a collection of paraphernalia at home which they had mused over together with no result. Japan, United States, Fiji. It was no doubt becoming clear to her that he had no travel strategy or genuine need for her professional services. Nevertheless, he found himself sitting in front of her again.

“Haven’t we seen you in here before? How was your last trip?” she asked politely. Jeremiah felt his face becoming hot with the attention and a forthcoming lie.

“Really good, caught up with some friends in the UK and we ended up in Spain.” Jeremiah hoped that the continuation from London to the Mediterranean was a believable one. Scenes of drinking in local seedy bars and salsa-dancing senoritas filled any necessary gaps in his memory.

“Sounds like fun.” She waited for the reason for his visit. There was an awkward pause as he glanced at the magazine rack behind her. Where was somewhere suggestive he could start with?

“Looking at going to Brazil.” Surely this was a sexy place they could wistfully dream of together. She stood up and lifted a brochure out from under the wire rack. The bushy Amazon river glossed the cover. Jeremiah was not exactly a hardy, muscled jungle-beater but he hoped that would be overlooked.

“Are you thinking of traveling anywhere yourself?” he volunteered. She met his gaze and shook her head faintly. Jeremiah felt a bit put off. How can you trust a travel consultant if they haven’t traveled? She also hadn’t shown any interest in what was obviously a bit of a come-on - they could have planned a great itinerary together supported by meaninglessly cool casual work.

“Well thanks, I’ll just take this brochure and have a think about it.” He stumbled off the chair and out of the centre. Holding travel information had the effect of making him feel healthier and more alive, in the same way that trying on hiking boots and sitting in canoes in an outdoor equipment shop did. These experiences didn’t require any real adventure.

Dinner that night consisted of some buckwheat salad with cannelloni beans. Jeremiah tolerated Carly’s vegetarian preferences because the food was not unpleasant, just bland. She supported herself with iron tablets, he ate steak when he went to the pub. Carly was a good cook, imaginative with what she had to work with. They had experimented with soy meat substitutes from the deli in the past but fortunately were both unmoved by them. Surely vegetarians did not need a visual substitute to trick themselves into believing their meal included animals, so nugget and drumstick-shaped items were not required in their house.

That evening included a visit from one of Carly’s many college friends, Samara. Samara had a pierced lower lip and smelled like damp hay. She wore tight and flowing non-descript rainbow garments, the type which are seen abundantly at weekend markets. Jeremiah didn’t like the influence Samara had over Carly - she had a daughter in primary school called Sunflower, and was forever passing on future childrearing tips and non-hilarious anecdotes. Several months ago they had spent an afternoon smoking pot and Samara had confessed that she didn’t think Jeremiah was good enough for her friend Carly. Jeremiah saw it as the other way around and wished she’d piss off.

Jeremiah knew what was coming. When Samara finally left, Carly draped herself on the furniture and spent some time staring at him fondly. Jeremiah pretended to be engrossed in the latest escapades of his Facebook foes, noting their countries of choice for future reference.

“Canwehaveababyyyy………”

Carly strung the question together as if to lighten the impact.

“Mmm, we’ll see.” Jeremiah knowing exactly what his answer was, but aware it was inappropriate. They had been through this many times in the past and he could escape any verbal commitment without injury.

“Don’t you want to see the world first?” he inquired as a means of diversion. Carly had seen Africa and Europe with her parents as a child however, and if he was honest with himself, she was not his ideal travel companion.

“Yeah, probably a good idea, then we can settle down. Grace from school got married the other weekend on the Daintree beach, with a Buddhist priest, and everyone wore orange robes. Wouldn’t that be heaven?”

I would rather throw myself to the crocs, Jeremiah thought. Have one drag me away so it looked like an accident. The wedding party could burn herbs and wait for my spiritual resurrection. Her weird excitement was endearing however, and he smiled at her. This exchange satisfied them both for now.
……….

The next day it was raining, and he sprinted towards the travel agency during his break. Seated in the waiting line, he suddenly realised how embarrassing it was to be there two days in a row. Sure enough he was seated at the desk promptly, and before he began, he noticed her small name placard. Adrienne. It was quite old fashioned and exotic, he could imagine that her parents were foreign and conceived her out of dark, Parisian passion. Quite how she ended up in St Kilda would be something he’d have to find out.

Asking about a new destination would be indicative of mental illness at this point, so he blurted out something new.

“Have you been to the new café down the promenade, the one that serves organic coffee?” It was the most interesting place nearby he could think of. Carly had dragged him there several times because she liked the gay and lesbian culture there, and the organic cake with organic cream.

“I’ve been past it but haven’t been inside.” she replied, raising her eyebrows in unspoken question. Did this girl have any sense of adventure? He would need to labour the point further.

“Did you want to head down and try it out after work? I’m free most of this week.”

She cocked her head and stared at him for a moment, presumably weighing up how attractive it would be to become involved with a seasoned world traveler.

“I’m pretty busy but I‘ll be out on Thursday night if you want to meet up.” Oh dear, meeting at night would complicate things quite badly. And a coffee at night was a pathetic anticlimax - hard liquor at the Espy would be a better option. But no going back now. There was no way of knowing whether it would be just the two of their either - being out suggested friends. But it was a start either way. A start he didn’t know if he should make.

Light in the Forest - Anna

We live in the forest. One day a huge cold front approached and the clouds were so dark and grey. It was really windy and trees were falling down. A disaster! We had to scramble to get out of the way of falling branches and gum trees. Some people died in the process. People were screaming. We just kept running.

Suddenly there was calm, like the eye of the storm. There was bright sunlight in the sky. It was so dazzling that it was hard to see through the tree tops.

Then the storm started up again. The wind was blowing fiercely, but we were better prepared to dodge the falling trees as we were looking out for them more. I could tell which angle they would fall and knew the best path to get out of their way.

As this second storm was raging, I saw a beam of light again through the trees. I had to shield my eyes. As I peaked through my fingers, I could see the bright light was from an alien ship.

Looking around at everyone else, I could see that if they looked into the light, they would then become an alien. The aliens were taking people to increase their population on earth. They said we didn’t have to look at the light if we didn’t want to, but both us and them knew that gradually everyone would become one of them. In the end, there would be only aliens.

Inaugural Resurection of that which is AsphYxiA

Welcome!

Some old sklers might remember there used to be like a totally awesome zine called asphYxia originating in Tassie in the 1990s. It was too cool, and contained stories, poetry, and fairytales of the 21st century.

Then something happened to the editor. She became a lazy no good non-zine-writer. Asphyxia faded into nothingness.

Now...AsphYxiA has been REBORN through Google's Booger!

This is a very sudden rebornation. It certainly isn't a result of suddenly having a sudden surge of creative exploits that needed publishing. So, as a result of having ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OF ORIGINAL CREATIVE TYPINGS, Asphyxia wishes to share its new favourite dating site: Alphabet Creatures

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