Tails: Collected Short Stories

By Renee Mirabito

"Have you ever seen a seagull without a foot, or a cat with three legs? It’s more than a battle scar... When you love someone you shouldn’t, you make yourself a sacrifice. Parts of you fall away. I’m sure if you’re not careful, your whole body could become gangrenous."

A traveller seeks the true soul of a city that is constantly at odds with itself. A young lover compromises on her moral judgement, and feels her whole identity slip away. Characters wind their way through surreal dreams that mask the surface of a sharp reality.

The stories in Tails are about the things we lose along the way. Sometimes we give them up in search of something better, sometimes they are stolen. Other times we don't even know we've lost them at all.

Bitterly true and darkly funny, Tails is a collection of stories that will stay with you long after you've read the last page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renee Mirabito
• Release date: Mar 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458057082

Renee Mirabito

I'm a writer from Melbourne, Australia.I have a book of short stories that will be ready to go, April 4, 2011.

Book preview

Tails

Collected Short Stories

By Renee Mirabito

Copyright © Renee Mirabito 2011 All rights reserved.

First Published 2011

Smashwords Edition

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

All characters and events in this publication are fictional, with the exception of those in the public domain. Any resemblance or similarity to actual persons, be they living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, circulated, or transmitted, without the prior permission of the author.

for my family and friends,

Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing was ever made.

Immanuel Kant

Contents

Tails

Died Happy

Story Lake

100 Cane Toads

Toast

All Things Are Their Opposites

Chickens

Six Fingers

Three, Inclusive

The Lost Girls

Tails

I meet you on a hot and sticky night, at a Christmas party that was meant to be a masked ball. Most of the guests arrive with faces of sequins and feathers, but not me. Everyone in Accounts decided to go as animals. So, we went to a kids’ party shop and bought a heap of costumes. Amongst the Venetian beauties, there is an ape, a bear, and a fox. I’m disappointed when I have to take my mask off to breathe in the muggy air. The room is too small for 200 people. Everyone throws their costumes away after an hour.

We’re in a sweaty inner-city night club, not quite what you would expect for a corporate affair, but it’s a big group. They have the kind of strobe lights you think are cool when you’re twenty-one. The floor is sticky, and you can buy lollipops out of a machine in the corner.

I am new, and you are old hat. Everyone knows your name. They talk about you in corridors, but I really don’t give a shit. This is my job, but your career. You come up to me to talk. I am polite, but I have other plans. Subtlety is not an art I’m known for. Right away, you cut through the conversation like a knife. I learn quickly that you have no tolerance, and little aptitude, for bullshit. You have my full attention (for a moment).

We end up in the disabled toilet together, because you’ve got the goods. It turns out you share. You don’t seem the type. You tell me you like my fox mask, and ask where I am hiding my tail. All night long you follow me around, whispering at me, grabbing at me, trying to make me laugh.

I leave with my friends. You follow. I don’t mind. We walk around the streets and try and find a bar still open. We have fun, more fun than I have had in months. Something about you makes me light up. It starts raining, but it stays warm. The bitumen reflects the street lights in dark rainbows. Cars pass. The moon is full. We talk about the Velvet Underground. I tell you my favourite song is Andy’s Chest. When you make a pass at me I turn you down. You’re definitely too old for me.

I tell you so. You shrug. You tell me you are good at getting people to change their minds. It’s your job, after all.

I get home at 5 in the morning. I trade my heels for runners and jog down to the wetlands. A gravel track runs around the outside. It measures five kilometres. I run it twice and I know I’ll be able to sleep.

When you start to haunt me, I think it’s because you want to prove a point. I can tell that you like winning. You like people who like you. You know all the kinds of things that people like to hear about themselves.