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In our own voice

Publishing original works by writers with a disability, mental illness or who are deaf.

New articles each week

Short Stories

Do you Dream in Black and White?

Do you Dream in Black and White?

By Sammie Oliver

Mikhail awoke in the darkness of his room to the sound of quiet voices swimming around him. His eyes moved about the room searching for familiarity, searching for the source of the disembodied speakers.

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The Most beautiful Thing in the World

The Most beautiful Thing in the World

By Graeme Turner

I have to admit I am a little surprised that Phil doesn’t see it. He just doesn’t appreciate what’s different about Jessica. Of course it’s not the name. I’m very proud of Jessica. Isn’t that what mothers in particular are supposed to be?

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The Wolf

The Wolf

By Simon J Green

Larissa was polite. As a marketing manager working with external suppliers, she needed open body language. An even, patient tone. Allowing Marcus to put forward his ideas.

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Alien?

By Joanne Penney

Standing, his tall frame hunches to peer from behind the only curtain in

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The Legacy

The Legacy

By Eleanor Beidatsch

A solitary child searches through the sand, looking for food. The hot sun blazes down upon her back as she crawls about on hands and knees, trying to find stray plants or animals. Shielding her eyes with a small brown hand she squints up at the green toned sky.

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We wish yu a Moggie Christmas

By Katrina Taylor

So, it is the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse. Well of course there wasn’t a mouse stirring, not while I’m on patrol. Anyway, none of this ‘not a creature was stirring bizzo’. I was stirring! Who am I?

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The Terminal

By Scout Micallef

Inside the decompression chamber, Elaine Harris is body-scanned by a robotic security guard while she waits for the pressurization system to finish.

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Freedom

By Jessica Kramer

He keeps screaming at me, his voice becoming ragged with the passion that he uses to spit the words at me. I scrunch myself up into a ball, becoming as small and inconspicuous as possible, but my body does not move.

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Gold

By Rebecca Stant

It was a typical Ballarat winter. The cold crept into your bones and the rain turned the goldfields to a sodden mess. At least it wasn’t a heavy or prolonged downpour Henry thought, just enough to top up the existing puddles and make the overflow form into narrow rivulets of muddy orange water.

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Moments of Freedom

By Steph Dower

“No way! I told you I can’t swim.”
I turned my wheelchair around and started driving away. Is he actually crazy? I’ve just told him I can’t swim and he wants to throw me in the pool!

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