Melissa Angius Salvatore
Youth Justice Worker, Teacher. Writing a memoir. From beautiful Australia, with Italian heritage. Much love to you all and to all that send me tips and love for whatever wierd stuff comes out of my head, it is very much appreciated. xx Mel
The Game: The Bowerbird Versus the Turtle
The Game We step inside the tiny little second-hand thrift store. The smell of old lace, moth-balls and musty unwashed garments float through the air. I shoot a stern look at my little sister. Game on.
A Date With Water
I have always loved the water. I soak in hot springs. I mud and salt my bare body in murky lakes. I pray in holy rivers. I swim naked in Japanese bath-houses with other naked women. Immersing myself in water is the only time I truly switch off from the world. When I turn the tap labelled H all the way to the right with just a little bit of C, I dunk my head in as the ceramic bowl fills. I feel my hair soak and my ears fill with growling minerals. My nose and face are exposed in the hot damp air, just enough for me to breathe. I close my eyes, and I listen to the waters thunder. If I keep my eyes shut long enough, I envision myself lost at sea, floating away from a sunken ship. The water is not rough, nor cold. I float through the night, staring up at the stars that blanket the sky. I see huge stars, tiny stars, a white full moon with a blank staring face. The sinking ship is far from me now, I have no guarantee of surviving the night. But in this sea, I am completely safe, for if death should come I couldn’t ask for a calmer one. In essence, everything is sweet.
I wish I was a bear So I could live to scare I’d roam around the forest And comb my thick brown hair I wish I was a bear
I do not exist.
And alone I sit. Alone I write a list. Of all the things that I despise, Because I don’t exist. I ache inside like this.
Alone I sit, as my mind gently drifts, back onto our brighter days where we would run, and hunt, and hide, and grunt, at villagers who thought us strange
“It’s a very good deal. You will not find such a good price as this”. The surgeon adjusts his glasses, flicking through his little black notebook. He peers down at his watch, time is short. He shows the notebook to the man. “See, forty thousand, that will buy her a new heart. We cannot guarantee it will work, but it is her best shot.”
The gilded sun beams over the horizon, light softly touches the hills and creeks; the afternoon warmth bestows its blessing onto the lathe of Eleron. Springtime is magnificent this time of year, a crisp clear air fills the town; flowers of pinks and golds pave the trails and cherry pollen blows swiftly in the breeze. It is the perfect season for a humble fisherman and his grandson, a boy of eighteen, to snatch their takings from the sea.