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    Eclectica: An anthology
    Eclectica: An anthology
    Eclectica: An anthology
    Ebook112 pages1 hour

    Eclectica: An anthology

    By Publishing Portfolio

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    About this ebook

    Take sixteen authors, add twenty stories, poems and non-fiction pieces. Mix it all together and you get an eclectic collection, spanning many styles and genres, that is sure to inspire a wide range of emotions.

    This anthology is the result of the writing talents of students of the University of Ballarat's Professional Writing and Editing Course, and members of Ballarat Writers.

    Whatever your reading tastes, you will be satisfied, so sit down, relax and enjoy 'Eclectica'.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPublishing Portfolio
    Release dateNov 1, 2012
    ISBN9781301687282
    Eclectica: An anthology
    Author

    Publishing Portfolio

    Publishing Portfolio is part of the Professional Writing & Editing course at the University of Ballarat. Every year students in the course put together a professional anthology of student work. 2012 is the first year that the Publishing Portfolio has been produced as an eBook.

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      Book preview

      Eclectica - Publishing Portfolio

      Eclectica

      An anthology of short stories, poetry and non-fiction

      Published by Publishing Portfolio 2012

      Part of the Diploma of Professional Writing & Editing at the University of Ballarat

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2012 Publishing Portfolio

      Copyright of the pieces in this anthology remains with the authors. All rights reserved. Eclectica is a limited edition student publication produced as part of an assessment for Publishing Portfolio for the Diploma of Professional Writing and Editing at the University of Ballarat. Every effort has been made to fulfil the requirements of copyright. Any omissions are accidental and unintended. The views of the authors are not the views of the University of Ballarat.

      Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

      Thankyou for downloading this free eBook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the authors, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com. Thank you for your support.

      Contents

      Introduction by Brownwyn Blaiklock

      A Hostage's Reality by Zoe Donkin

      Faery Tales by Rachel Triska

      Femme Fatale by Jasmine Van Den Hoek

      Happy Birthday Courtney by Zoe Donkin

      Hedgehogs by Jan Samuels

      In the Cold Night Air by Jodee Lockman

      Johnathon Paynter and the (Frightfully) Ugly Jumper by Danielle O'Donnell

      Kingdom by Maury Brown-Daniels

      Moving On by Courtney O'Neill

      Purgatory by James Taylor

      Reflections by Julie Sharp

      River Ripples by Ray Wallace

      Stitches by Julie Sharp

      The Formula, the Algorithm, the Equation: Love by Phill Boas

      The Garbage Man by Jordyn Chapman

      Those Snails by Cliff Broome

      Torment by Zoe Donkin

      Tragic in the Extreme by Cliff Broome

      Two Armchairs by Saffron Hazelager

      We Buy Him on Our Hands and Knees by Melissa Watts

      About the authors

      Acknowledgements

      ~ ~ ~

      Special note: The story ‘St Petersburg’ by Melissa Watts appears in the original print publication of this anthology, but is unable to be included in this eBook edition due to the specialised typesetting required for the piece.

      ~ ~ ~

      Introduction

      By Brownwyn Blaiklock

      Eclectica: Derived from the word ‘eclectic’, composed of elements drawn from various sources.

      This is a fitting title for the 16th publication to emerge from the Publishing Portfolio students at the University of Ballarat. This anthology is greater than its elements. It is greater than the number of its pages and the stories within them, not only because it pays homage to the various sources that inspired and sustained its creation, but because it draws together the voices of two regional Victorian communities: students in the Diploma of Professional Writing and Editing, and members of not-for-profit regional writing organisation, Ballarat Writers Incorporated. Because of this unique composition, Eclectica is an important departure from previous years’ publications. Eclectica melds two communities speaking of life in a regional centre, yet the stories and poems are diverse and the voices distinctive.

      An intrinsic part of the Professional Writing and Editing experience, Eclectica has been a vehicle through which aspiring wordsmiths have learned the craft of professional writing and small print publishing. The creation of an anthology requires persistence through an exhausting process of seeking submissions, selection, editing and revision; tasks that the 2012 PWE anthology group have clearly mastered. Eclectica also stands as testament to the group’s entrepreneurial mettle, having required of them significant fundraising to support its production.

      Congratulations to the 2012 PWE anthology group, their teachers and, in particular, to the program coordinator Irene Warfe for her unwavering support of generations of budding writers and the development of writing in the wider community.

      Bronwyn Blaiklock

      Chair, Ballarat Writers Inc

      www.ballaratwriters.com

      October 2012

      Back to Contents

      A Hostage's Reality

      By Zoe Donkin

      I can’t see.

      Everything is covered in darkness and my mind is foggy to the point that I can hardly tell where my hands are. A strong smell of copper surrounds me and a sticky substance makes my clothes cling to my body.

      This is my reality; there’s no denying it. And I’m ok with that.

      I’m treated well, considering. Having no light makes it hard to tell how much time has passed, but I can say that once every now and then I’m allowed to bathe and walk around freely in a little courtyard, which holds everything I could desire. It should be coming up to this time again—it always follows this fogginess.

      It’s a nice little routine that we have going, every moment leading up to this next stage. When I’m allowed to walk free, in the bright light, it warms my skin.

      I just have to wait. It’s worth it for this bit of freedom, where I can do anything I want. They prick my skin first, making my head foggy, like it is now. But that’s ok. Next time I will be left in the light and not the dark. I’ll be able to see. There will be greenery and running water. It’s always cold, but the light warms my naked body as it dries. I’m not allowed clothes in there. I don’t know why. But I am always given clean items when I go back.

      I always go back willingly. It’s expected of me. They are my superiors, they have the control. It’s the way it should be.

      These people are like me, but different. I can tell. When they lay their naked bodies next to mine I can feel the difference, though I’ve never seen it. Before that happens, I feel the prick to my arm and my mind goes foggy.

      These differences, they are strange—but these others are bigger and heavier. I’m never scared though. I hurt when I wake and the fog disappears completely, but I’ve grown accustomed.

      I can recall being told that I make them happy and that making them happy is my purpose. I don’t want to disappoint. I let these things happen; it’s what I’m here for. I’m happy to make them happy. When they’re happy, I’m happy. It works.

      They treat me well. They give me water, though it never tastes the same as when I drink from the light. I’m given plenty of food between the fogginess. When I get round in the tummy, they give me more food and I keep growing. Then they make everything go foggy again, when the pain starts, and then my tummy is flat again.

      I’m always in the dark—even when my belly gets round; even when they strip me of my clothes and prick my arm.

      They said that there wasn’t enough light for everyone. And that’s ok. I want them to have more. They need it more than I do. I’m happy to sit in the dark and await the fog and the light. They come hand in hand.

      My hands are sticky. So are my clothes.

      I can smell something metallic.

      This is my reality.

      Back to Contents

      Faery Tales

      By Rachel Triska

      The room was warmly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, and the curtains had been shut against the darkness that loomed without. On the bed, the young girl had her brightly-coloured coverlet pulled up to her chin, and her dark curls, shining fresh and clean from her bath, spilled across her pillow in a mass of ebony locks. She looked up at the young woman who sat beside her and opened her clear, brown eyes pleadingly.

      Will you tell me a story?

      Of course, sweetheart. Which one do you want to hear?

      Tell me one about our faery.

      #

      In the tiny gap between the ceiling and the roof, where many of the fae have chosen to make their homes in our world after leaving their own, the faery in question landed delicately beside the light bulb and settled down to listen to the voices which drifted up from below. She was a Cornish faery, one of the largest types there are, and had accompanied the girls home from their recent trip to England. It was the storytelling that drew her, that kept her and other fae in this house;

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