Avenger_WHEN JEREMY FLEW TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN_Family Camping_The Rosewood
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Avenger
This bar is seedy and disgusting. Not the kind of place I like to frequent. But I needed somewhere off the radar. A place where no one pays attention to you or remembers a face or name. Even the bar's name, ‘Hot Bird’, bespoke the kind of venue it was. I had sussed out the joint earlier and knew it was perfect for what I needed tonight. I am a closet artisan so one of the things I love the most about my job is the opportunity to transform my appearance. My current persona calls for a chic peroxide blonde bob, green contacts, long false eyelashes, thigh-high suede stiletto boots, and a tight-...
WHEN JEREMY FLEW TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN
WHEN JEREMY FLEW TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN Jeremy was born into a fabulously wealthy family. His father, Kenneth, had leveraged his newspaper publishing inheritance into the dominant publishing and television empire in the country. He was a brute.Brutality ran in the family. Jeremy’s grandfather had also been a brute to his son and that was how Kenwww.onedoor.ccneth understood bringing up a son should be done. Jeremy’s life eventually became a bizarre spectacle of a son battling to win his father’s love and respect. It was an ordeal on show for all the world to marvel at. Jeremy was destined to ultimately inheri...
Family Camping
Family CampingThis was a family event. Heading into the forest, woods or as us Australians like to say. Bush, not the type of bush a surfer keeps in his groin. Unless he or she shaves it off. Another story that I learned in primary school was about Sir John Forest, a dignitary who never wanted Western Australia to join the Commonwealth. As we set off again, wind stiffened sending an armada of clouds scuttling across the sun. Cooler now, and I am glad of my red bobble hat. Angry gusts rustle along the shore, intensifying the briny, slightly sweet smell of decaying seaweed. Only just possible to...
The Rosewood
They came from all over and lived for a time at 214 Olive Street. Some lived there for decades. Others only for a few years. They all called it home. At least for a time. The complex, built in the 1950s, was small by modern standards. Just three buildings, two floors each, one unit on top and one on bottom. Arranged in an odd triangle that created an even odder courtyard in the middle. All angles and straight lines, nooks and crannies, caused by the three buildings. Every unit, the same floor plan. A bedroom, a living area, kitchen, and bathroom. Out in front, there were letters attached to a ...