In front of the house there had been a dead tree. Its bark had long scaled off, leaving it white and bare and raw. A rosebush had fancied it the spot to make its new home and entwined itself around its tall stature—spawning myriads of bright pink blossoms every year, imbuing the air around the house with the scent of summer. There were so many of them that every visitor would get a bouquet of roses, should they want one, and sometimes I would feed one or two flowers to the iguana.

I turn around the corner and reluctantly step onto the street. I used to live here. This is weird. Nothing has changed. The narrow street is lined with the same neatly cut hedges, behind which the deceivingly friendly dwellers of this village lurk. It’s quiet, eerie, just like it had always been, back then. I keep walking towards the house, each step slower than the one before—

…and there it is. A low, wooden fence, and behind it the cowering, red brick stone structure, a lonely, garishly green watering can, and a bench that wasn’t there before. The dead tree must have had to yield to a neatly mowed lawn, and the scent of summer has long since faded away.

[214 words]

(c) 2019 Anett Enzmann


The best

“I’m the best lesbian,” Cath announced suddenly, as she sipped her mug of coffee, sitting with her feet up on the three-seater Queen Ann couch they had had recovered in dark blue denim.

“Says who?!”

Andrea sat down in the remaining space at the end of the couch.

“My mother. That’s what she told her friend Vanda. Her daughter, Tália, was also lesbian. They were so competitive, those two. I heard them, one day in my twenties, discussing who was the best lesbian. My mother won the argument, as usual.”

“Well, that’s that then,” said Andrea, slurping her coffee, grinning.

©2019 Allison Wright
[103 words]


It was so bright today, I went back inside to get my Jacaru Aussie leather hat and sunglasses. The one and only pair of shades I have ever had. When I bought them four years ago, people said I looked like Agent Smith from The Matrix movie.

The image was a selfie of me deadpan, not smiling, deadly serious.

Today, the hat and shades took the heat off when I went walking. And I was smiling. No selfie. I’m used to the shades now.

©2019 Allison Wright
[87 words]


Summer is when you have a shower and do not towel dry. Instead you wash by hand the clothes you had previously stepped out of, all the while noticing in the mirror the new wrinkles that etched character last winter into your middle age.

They glory in the brightness streaming through the window. You don’t care so much, as wonder who this new person is – or will be next year. At least you can still touch your toes. That’s something.

©2019 Allison Wright–
[80 words]


Ladies having tea and cake in the garden after playing tennis. They’re the ones who used to say it was sweltering. Flashback to when I was a little girl, and not old enough to play tennis with the adults, but old enough to serve them tea and cake.

The only reason the word popped up was because I was trying to think of a polite way of saying that it’s effing hot without using the F-word. Though of course, it is so effing hot that you bloody need an F-word to make sure everyone knows just how effing sweltering it is.

©2019 Allison Wright
[104 words]