10 Australian Short Stories

By Tim C Taylor

This is the collection of 10 stories with an Australian theme. The topics are diverse as is the author's voice. The works combine grief, humour, pathos and satire and at times, the story line is uniquely Australian. At other times, the themes are universal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tim C Taylor
• Release date: Oct 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301535538

Tim C Taylor

Tim is a South Australian teacher, ex-Principal, ex-social sector worker who treads the theatrical boards, patrols our wonderful beaches and, lately, keeps bees. His fantastic honey has the unique taste of the Lefevre Peninsula Mangroves. His six children all have aims to save the world and are well on their way to doing it.

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10 Australian Short Stories

Smashwords Edition

Tim C Taylor copyright 2012

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10 Australian Short Stories

Tim C Taylor

Introduction: Although many of these short stories are typically Australian and some deliberately set in Australia, the themes are universal. There are no kangaroos or koalas, just normal people—mostly—dealing with idiosyncrasies, prejudices and dreams that most of us share.

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Contents

The Interview: A job interview aboard a helicopter. The prize, to work on one of the richest open cut mines in the world. The boss doesn't know that he's the candidate's father.

Night Patrol: Two women meet in the early hours of the morning. One, a cleaner, taking her break. The other, an aged widow. A friendship is born from the shared solitude.

The Consultant: Hacking networks helps Leah form a lucrative partnership until she takes on the the wrong victim.

My Time: In a world about ME, ME ME! one can still find time to engage one's children at the beach - between the coffee, playgroup and massage. Anyway, the babies can amuse themselves can't they?

Without John: Three young men are left bereft when John goes into a coma. John is the glue which binds them together and without John, things fall apart.

Schmooze: Art shows can be tense affairs for the artist, keen to mak a good impression and above all, sell his work. This artist's success all hinges on one man-the 'Don' of the art world. His patronage will guarantee success but at what price?

My Sister, The Brother: My family aren't gender benders or anything but when the expected baby boy turns out to be a girl, well, it's the baby sister that has to change his future!

We’ll Meet at Urrbrae: Australia is the unsuspecting test site for an electronmagnetic pulse detonation. Millie is lucky enough to escape Adelaide's CBD which is grinding to a halt after the event. She's heading for a wetland at Urrbrae where her friend arranged to meet her: If there’s some huge disaster, and everything stops, I’ll wait for you at Urrbae.

Train Conversations: Beware the old lady on the train! Revenge leads to a detailed plan of murder during the afternoon commute.

Passing Warmth: How strange and peaceful this death business is. And yet, in our culture, there's so much fuss.

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To Contents (TOP)

The Interview * Night Patrol * The Consultant * My Time* Without John * Schmooze * My Sister, The Brother * We’ll Meet at Urrbrae: * Train Conversations * Passing Warmth

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The Interview

Steve Eriksson stands with the pilot under the rotor blades, one arm leaning on the open cabin door and a foot resting on the skid. Steve’s deep laugh carries easily in the still morning air, his head tilting slightly to acknowledge me as I approach the helipad. It was Steve who gave the final nod to short-listed candidates at the Prominent Hill mine. At least I’d made it this far; the chopper flight was a final interview. From all accounts, Steve is an affable but private bloke. I reckon he would reject me out of hand if he found out I was his son.

***

The alarm had gone off at four that morning; I must have stuffed up setting it but I couldn’t get back to sleep. Half an hour later, I was ready on the step of my demountable. First light and the paraphernalia of mining life declared itself as the darkness melted into the dust: four wheel drives, empty cable rolls, pallets, uncommissioned demountables and, in the distance, a phalanx of trucks, standing to for the dawn parade. It was a good way to accustom my tender eyes to the light even if I did retreat behind my sunglasses at sunrise.

A car approached the visitors’ compound; tyres crunching the compacted gravel crush. Road surfaces, paths and car parks are all the same up at the mine. Crush from the pit is everywhere, like a gigantic spider web—a grey lattice on an otherwise red planet. At dawn, the landscape is bloodstain brown; the last refuges of night cling in brooding purple patches like damp pools. The breeze was cool on my open collared neck but with the bite of dust. I tried to relax.

The Toyota levelled with my door at six forty-five and Mike rolled down the driver’s window.

Mornin’ Baitfish, ready to fly?

I nodded. The new nickname reminded me of the heavy night before and I must have looked a bit grim, perhaps worse for wear. Mike tried to ease my obvious tension.

Don’t worry, he’ll just show you enough from the air to see if you can think of something intelligent to say. If he likes you, he’ll take you to see Lake Eyre. It’s in flood but he won’t go too low because of the birds—millions of them. He loves it there.

Let’s hope it’s a long flight then.

Yeah. Molly, his PA, has a clear view of the pit from her office window. She was there last night; did you see her? Red hair… He gestured with his hands and I nodded slowly and he continued, When the chopper swings around and heads north, Molly starts preparing the paperwork. Once a fellow threw up and he was off site by 8:30 am but Steve told us his paperwork had been archived an hour earlier.

Mike was laughing. The bastard knew I was suffering from the night before. He insisted that a night at the club would be the best way to get