By Scott Butler / August 2, 2019 / / COMMENTS OFF

Bag of Money.

Corey and Hemi walked through an empty park with the backs of their jackets pulled up over their heads to ward off the rain. Water trickled down a green plastic slide and formed a puddle at its base. The night was dark, coal-black with nothing to hear but the rain that fell in a steady…

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By Scott Butler / June 28, 2019 / / COMMENTS OFF

The Cable.

The rain had stopped sometime last night, then the sun had burned bright all day. The ground was still wet underfoot, the grass above it, dry. Tom had finished work early, the lawn had been bugging him. The grass had gone from rising upward, to bending as it lengthened. He topped up the oil and…

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By Scott Butler / June 14, 2019 / / COMMENTS OFF

Wall Face.

The wind was cold off Wellington harbour. A southwester blew hard in your face, forced you to look the other way. I drove my hands deeper into pockets, scarf looped twice around my neck, tied off like pastry at one end. I could see half a head with a body reclining, one leg bent, the…

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By Scott Butler / June 7, 2019 / / COMMENTS OFF


I hear it before I see it. The rapid beating of wings cutting their way through the air, skirting the tops of the Tōtara trees as the bird approaches. The wood pigeon’s power and pace make me look up. It flies low, only meters above my head. I watch from underneath, wings outstretched, tail fan-like…

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