Jan Marsh

It's Saturday night and I'm dozing off when loud voices outside my window bring me back to wakefulness. A male voice is telling a casually sweary anecdote that takes the group to the bottom of the zig-zag, with occasional monosyllables from his female companions. There'

What we did with the remains   by Jan Marsh I carefully put down the smeared carving knife and step back from the table. A red pool is seeping into the cloth, blending the holly and reindeer into an angry blur. Behind me, the wreckage of wrapping paper and exploded crackers

I wasn't really listening. The girls can get quite raunchy over Friday drinks and I tend to tune out, but I did hear 'gardener'. 'I need someone to do my lawn,' I said. 'Can I have his number?' I didn't

'Grandma, did you know...?' He bursts into the kitchen, eyes shining with excitement that he has facts to share. At six years old, he's thrilled with his own skill. 'Did you know...?' His father used to start like that before launching into an elaborate

Paul put the last bucket of brushes into the van and drove out from Paint the Town's base in Richmond. It was a calm blue morning. What a relief to have a break from the wind blowing dust on to his paint before it dried and threatening to

In the corner of the living room is a china cabinet. It's made of some kind of blond wood, ash I think, with a curved, leadlighted glass front and a small brass key in the door. This cabinet is where my story of five objects begins and is

Verity spotted Angela's red coat in the taxi queue and tooted. Angela waved and came over to the pick up point while Verity got out to greet her. They hugged, bundled Angela's bag into the back seat and set off. 'Lovely to see you,'

I was surprised to find these little huts in the paddock. The farmer has always made shelters for the pigs but they are usually made of iron and four by twos. I thought the first one was just a small haystack until I got closer and got a clear whiff

"Fred, I don't think that will suit this year. " "Hmm?" Fred's puzzlement hummed like static in her ear. She had practised this moment but she was weakening already. Maria took the phone into the kitchen and studied the month of April under

“The wasp makes a lovely nest ...” Sister Elizabeth's voice came from the back of the room. There was a slight rustle and the jingle of the big rosary beads which hung from her belt as she turned into the next aisle of desks. “...which it lines with a

It started as a joke. My mate Baz signed me up to a dating site and when I protested that I was not a tragic loner he dared me to prove it by contacting someone and going on a date. I arranged to meet Victoria at the Nelson market on

I've got kooties. Probably had them for a while but you know how it is. At first you think there are hardly any, no harm, they'll go away on their own. Time goes by, you barely notice them. Then suddenly they're a rampaging plague.

Lily pinged the go-button and waited for Grandad to appear. Grandad's devices were all old-school and 'slow like me' he said. While she waited she studied the icon on the button. It looked like a handle for something. Dad said it was from an old-school coms

The sun warms my shoulders as I enter another world. With the smell of plum blossom and mown grass in my nostrils, I stand beside a gangly youth at a nineteenth century whaling station in the Sounds, where the stench of blood and death fill the air. He feels the

The harsh sound made no sense. Ruth turned to face the creaking, crunching noise which came from across the river. She stood her ground even though the strangeness increased as she watched the trees whipping this way and that, their erratic behaviour belying the effects of wind, even a tornado.

I. Last Year Your physio says surgery won't be necessary. He gives you an exercise to do, adding, 'Swimming is good.' Seeing your doubtful expression, ' Biking is also good. Even walking is ok,' he says. For most of a year, you do the exercise

In the early morning mist of Delhi bus station, Felicity watched as her backpack was hoisted up to the roof of the bus to Nepal. Reaching into her shoulder bag she fingered the plane ticket which guaranteed her return home for the start of her Polytech course. The bus driver

My first memory of a swimming lesson is when I was six years old. Our teacher had us all line up along the side of the pool with our arms above our heads, hands joined as if in prayer. On her order, most dived in. Those who hesitated were pushed.

In our family there's a game we play at times – a kind of 'name that tune' meets 'a penny for your thoughts'. It's about those songs that rise up from the depths of your mind, the ones you hum or whistle as

> I unhem creation a little, to work out the stitch (Vincent O’Sullivan, 2006 from the anthology ‘Are Angels OK?') You arrive in a flurry of hi-vis, and I picture how you leapt off your bike, docked it deftly and unbuckled your helmet as you ran up the