
Gore-core
It’s Monday morning, the last week of year eight, and Mum has…

It’s Monday morning, the last week of year eight, and Mum has…

By Esther Vale I took the train and walked the rest of…

By Isabella Jensen Mary leaned against the veranda railing and blew steam…

By Isadora Dean Kenny was born in a broken bathtub in a…

Every year during Welcome Week, creative writing faculty host Nightmare Nuggets, a…

By Brittany Bentley In the low tide I trek across the mudflats of Coochiemudlo, a…

by Cameron Walker “Mother died today”, or maybe yesterday. I can’t be sure. The note which I’ve unfolded…

by Rory Murphy “Eat up, Garrett. You’re not a bitch, are you?” …

by Malika Savory A figure is tracing itself through the summer air, a bead…

by Ashlee Palmer My Suzanne, We’ve missed you. Last time you were…