He was attempting to collect his thoughts, to remember why he’d ventured down this way, when he found her standing by the river. She stood with her back to him, staring out at the snake-brown water. Jake didn’t know where the woman was from, or where she was going. He’d never seen her before; yet there she was, lingering on his land as if doing so were the most natural thing in the world.
If you have ever hit the internet in search of Australian magazines and journals that publish short fiction, then you've probably found it doesn't turn up a lot of quality results. And yet Australia does have quite a few high-quality magazines and journals that publish new, cutting-edge fiction from Australian writers. Brain drip (that's us!) is a new magazine on the front line of emerging Australian literary talent, and we think we should spread the word about other, similar magazines that we love. Sharing is caring, and we reckon the more the merrier.
Clings to you
Winter’s cool embrace
Wind chimes beat a frantic fractured metal sound, the music lost, against the noise of strained and flapping sun sails. Views to the south had been reduced to 10 meters from the usual 6 Nautical Miles. With a sudden darkening of rain clouds and a drop in temperature from 40 to 22 o C the southerly had arrived. It was early. It was always early. She had told him it would be early. Now all she could do was shut her fear at the thrashing palm trees and the bent branches of the Lilly Pilly as it actively invaded the much older avocado tree.
“This is fucked!” Damian said from the front seat. His hands gripped the wheel tightly and his muscles flexed. He had tattoos all the way up his arms with symbols from New Zealand. Out the front window of the car the headlights reflected off a thick wall of fog. You could only see the road for a car length then it disappeared and there was condensation all over the windows. “Remind me again, what’s so special about the Otways?” Mum didn’t answer; it must have been a rhetorical question. I poked the condensation on the window with my finger. It felt cold and wet.
When the Great Crabs come frothing from the ocean- angry and spitting - it’s Meeko who leaps upon them, shoving them into the rusted tin bucket.
He’s young though. Unpractised.
Where are all the warhorses?
The streets look so empty,
The tar is turning cold.