Rosanne Dingli
Bio
Rosanne Dingli has authored more than 20 books of fiction, including 6 volumes of short stories. She lives and writes in Western Australia.
Achievements (1)
Stories (7/0)
- Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
PICTURES TAKEN ON A BOX CAMERARunner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
I arrived on the four-thirty train and fully intended to stay on board, go to the end of the line, and shunt back; but how could I do that without feeling like an utter fool, a total coward? How could I travel back to where I started without doing what I set out to do? Alighting with a mass of excited schoolchildren, and a hoard of hopeful-looking adults eager to join their families for the holidays, I held back.
By Rosanne Dingli2 years ago in Fiction
The Geography of Solitude
Something behind him attracted her eye. Something like a flash of lightening, but no, not in this clear sky. Silhouetted against the sunset, he stood on deck and waved – a kind of jerky salute – for a few seconds. The sky turned orange. She waved from the jetty, too late. He lowered his head, back arched; loosening a line, or adjusting a winch.
By Rosanne Dingli3 years ago in Humans
Feeling blue [and white!]
It was one of those dreary days. No sun, no plans, no company ... no money. I turned on the oven for some baking and turned it off again. No energy to bake, and no eggs in the house. It was a matter of kicking off my slippers, donning those old comfortable sneakers, and heading off down the main street. Perhaps I would encounter something to pull me out of the blues. Perhaps my last few dollars would go on eggs.
By Rosanne Dingli3 years ago in Styled
Miss Virginia Pilgrim
Virginia Marguerite Pilgrim killed her father on August 22, 1949. It was a Tuesday. She was almost thirteen. Confusion erupted after she pushed one of the heavy stone urns off the top terrace onto him. No one guessed what had happened. She walked off in a daze without looking down. Then Ginnie – everyone called her Ginnie – walked to the small arbour, where someone had placed an empty basket and a pair of secateurs on a bench; where she was later found by a maid, snipping white roses into a heap on the ground.
By Rosanne Dingli3 years ago in Families
The Beige Porsche
Standing on this bridge always had an effect on him. The cranes and superstructures of the port in the distance, the mist rising off the river in the gloom, and the muffled noise of traffic that seemed to dissipate into nothing when he reached the very middle of the span, where the water appeared to loom closer rather than further from where he stood. If he reached out a hand, it might be possible to wet it in the river’s inky thickness, wet it with the slowness and chill of fluid that seemed like anything but water.
By Rosanne Dingli3 years ago in Humans
Compound
COMPOUND When the choir finished the last chant, and all singers descended from the stalls under the great organ, Philip closed his music folio, climbed down backwards from his high seat, and came around the screen. One singer was left. He could see the others as they opened the sacristy door and disappeared, one after the other, chatting and laughing although they were tired … and probably hoarse. He had played hard that day, and the choir master pushed them all relentlessly. Now they were gone; all except this woman whose face he could not remember.
By Rosanne Dingli3 years ago in Families