The Barn Yip
A lone figure trudged through the soaked gully. The droplets bounced off his rough leather overcoat, the limits of its thick hide being tested. Protecting his shoulder-length hair was a leather Akubra. It wasn’t too necessary, after weeks in the bush his hair had the same greasy waterproofing as a duck’s feathers.
Sins of the Fathers
The two women stumbled through the vines. Sweat poured, blood dripped from lashings by thorns and insect bites. Wiping the dirt and sap just smeared them into mud, mockingly like a pattern of camouflage fatigues. It coated the long red hair of Ava such that she looked brunette. Her locks had long ago gone from flowing to stagnant, Frankie, the woman with actual brunette hair, cropped short to above her ears to reduce the irritation of the humidity, slashed at the last of the groping tentacles and they burst out onto a field.
A Prayer for Flares
Flares, was there anything else with more flair? Tapered tight at the waist then billowing out at the knees into conical hems. They hug the thighs and release at the ankles, complimenting your body then freeing it. You could fit a pair of combat boots under them and no one would know. In this era of skinny jeans, when a pair of flares walks past, I am always in awe of how the wearer pulls them off with such an air of grace. They don’t strut, they sashay, the back of the ankle hem glancing their shoe before floating back at the next step. Flares are basically two denim dresses acting as a pair of pants and so force a walk that is straight-backed, graceful yet confident.
The escape pod bobbed among the waves, like a coconut. Albeit a hairless, gleaming silver coconut. Not that it mattered to Frida, she had never seen one. She had clambered atop the top hatch on the top of the pod. Long ago some logical, slightly sadistic engineers had realised that an escape pod being shot out of an exploding ship may not have had the most optimal launch. Stabilisers and retrorockets may be compromised or charred leaving an orbiting oven. Also, they were quite expensive, considering the number of survivors likely to make it to the pods. Hence, the sphere. More economical than gentle, what are the odds of a marble reaching a habitable surface from the surface? Able to enter an atmosphere at the same angle every time, the atmosphere’s friction applied evenly and minimally thanks to the sphere’s superior area to volume ratio.