Contribute and Respond

Here’s your chance to contribute to the Agathokakalogical Aussie Summer Story Mosaic.

If you would like to contribute a short story in response to our theme and to the existing stories, please prepare a final draft version ready to publish:

    • No more than 1000 words.
    • Not requiring editing.
    • Include a paragraph of bionote if you wish, along with your full name and email address (which won’t be published).
    • Note that contributed content will be monitored to filter out unsuitable material.

One Reply to “Contribute and Respond”

  1. Dancing

    It is the end of an Aussie summer, and I am dancing in the sand.
    Today I am visiting Uluru, very respectfully, though because I am a tourist I will be both watching the sun rise over the great red rock formation and dining on delicacies listening to traditional tales as the sun sets behind it.
    I dance to the music “Gathu Mawulah” by Gurrumul. It’s what I call the “Emu dance”, one of my favourites: eight steps with hands held behind like an emu’s tail, eight steps spreading my fingers to connect with the earth and eight steps looking forward into the future and looking backward into the past…
    It is the end of an Aussie summer and tomorrow I fly north to fulfil a decades-held dream to swim on the Great Barrier Reef.
    I dance alone on the beach, wearing my Bluetooth headphones. I am dancing to the music of Bollywood, the steps and hand movements choreographed in homage to the Indian dance form: it’s a lot of fun to dance and lifts the spirits.
    It is the end of an Aussie summer and my trip will be complete in Sydney where I will meet with many old friends, some I’ve never yet met in person. We will eat the best Chinese food in the world and talk of writing and books.
    I am dancing to the “Bells of Norwich” now, channelling the spirituality of Mother Julian to give me strength to leave behind the end of Aussie summer and the autumn I looked to enjoy. I dance around the beach, the music silent to all but me, people staring at me briefly but then shrugging, accepting, because this is 2020 and it’s a strange year.
    At first it looked like fire would thwart us, heartbreakingly raging through Aussie bush and woodland and coast. Now it is not fire but death that surrounds me .
    For this is Newcastle, UK, not Newcastle, NSW, and though my spirit has soared into the sky on its long-awaited Australian Odyssey, my body is still here, flight cancelled, trapped amid spiralling horror and fear.
    I dance on the beach, splashing through the chilly shallows, letting the waves roll up and over my cold bare toes. I dance the steps from all around the world, countries I’ve been to and those I fear I will never now visit. I dance the circle dances in a circle empty of all but me, no longer able to hold hands with friends in shared joy. We do not know what time will bring before the next Aussie summer.
    I dance because I am afraid, and it is mindful. Perhaps next year – or the year after – I will dine in the shadow of Uluru, swim in warm waters, and laugh and dance again with friends.
    It is the end of an Aussie summer, far away, and I dance alone on the beach, humming to myself.

    (Choreography by Chrisandra Harris and colleagues)

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