Losing her house wasn’t the end of the world, she tried reminding herself. It was a silly phrase. Losing. She hadn’t lost it at all, it was right there where the developer would be bulldozing it into a thousand tiny matchsticks. Produced by Postie, photo by Nate Biddle (@nateb.visuals)
The Keeper of Lost and Found Things held secrets and heartbreaks. Poems and journals. There were collections of dummies, books lost in the rain, their pages dry but forever resting in waves of words. School jumpers, and the occasional esky. Produced by Postie, photo by Connor McManus (@tarnishedpixels ) at Pexels.
He was from the generation where you didn’t speak of loss, or grief. He was from a bygone era, and some days he felt the distance more than others. His friends are the same. A clap on the shoulder is the only acknowledgement he needs, just to keep going. Produced by Postie. Photo by Matej at Pexels.
On the day before a long weekend, the last day of school before the holidays, the blues skies held the promise of fevered anticipation. You see, there was a plan afoot. There was someone in the village who had been waiting, and watching for years. Produced by Postie, voiced by Jacq and Greg. Photo by Elijah O'Donnell
The electricity cut out without warning and a scream left his mouth involuntarily as he raced to find card for the meter. Produced by our award winning sound designer Postie, voiced by Jason and Kadi. Photo by Edyttka Stawiarska.
She had the dream, the dream they all did. The difference was, that she had the means to make that dream come true. She could just pack up and leave. Produced by Postie.
He just wanted some peace at work. It was crowded with people seeking advancement, constant agenda driven behaviour, courtesy-less teamwork and it was exhausting. Just once, he'd liked to be the one people listened to. It was time to escape. Produced by Postie, photo by Feyza (@asumaani) and inspiration from Will & Steph (@picniccafehobart)
Sneaking past the blue bike in the laundry was the hardest. Everything was crammed in so tight it was hard to manoeuvre. Produced by Postie, photo by Leandro Boogalu.
It smelt of dust, stale air and old memories. The sun light filtered through the window as the motes flew around the room in the wake of his footsteps. Once it was empty, a room of promises; a study, a nursery, a sewing room, guestroom and now... Storage. Produced by Postie, photo by Pexels.
Mr MacGregor saw the unfolding of the Big Bank Robbery as he shuffled down the street. It was another hot day, the ground baked and the air dripped, and his town clothes were now coated in a fine layer of dust from the roadside. Produced by Postie, image by Ray Marsh from Pixabay
Every time he climbs the stairs, she sees that he looks in. Is it a reflex? Is it curiosity? Is it a little more sinister? The stairs run along her loungeroom windows, so many people walking up to the top flats do peep in, then realise what they’re doing and look away quickly. Embarrassed. Produced by Postie, photo by Niels Hunnersen.
For six months he caught the bus in to work. In those six months only two people returned his greeting. Two. Apart from the bus drivers, who always said hello, shared a joke, commiserated on a sporting team’s loss. Produced by Postie, voiced by the Franklin Frosties, and photo from Pexels.
He liked to think of himself as the Bard of the Backyard. The Shakespeare of the streets, the voice to the voiceless and the antidote to the dope of the wires. Produced by Postie, photo by ShonEjai.
A longing. A longing for sea breezes and misty rain. For green, green grass all year round, for trees that stood tall and grew straight. No more red rust dust. The smell of the smelter, it’s acrid taste so constantly depriving his senses of real aromas, of real flavours. Produced by Postie, photo by Button Pusher @ Pexels.
The offender sat quietly in her cell. She wasn’t a flight risk, the door was open, however it didn’t stop the disappointment of the police officer who brought her in, nor the sigh of resignation that came from the duty officer. Produced by Postie, voiced by Lizzie, Greg and Jacq. Photo by Irina Iriser.
She lived alone, and strangers in the valley made her nervous, especially strangers in her driveway... Produced by Postie, voiced by Anthea, Tony and Jacq, and Photo by Pat Whelen.
Swimming gave him the most incredible sense of freedom. He ploughed through the water, spinning, turning, loving, laughing. He moved smoothly, so sign of discomfort. It was his equaliser and he never missed a day. Produced by Postie, voiced by Jacq and Andreas. Photo by Pixabay
Her sisters said it only needed a tiny space to squash into. When it left that space it grew a hundred times bigger. They knew. They’d seen it. They’d only just gotten away with their lives: But her courage was as big as her imagination. Produced by Postie.
Stockings covered the old rusty hills hoist, a legion of legs, rotating in the soft earthy morning breeze. Hung up at dawn before the workers trouped through the apartment courtyard, coffees clutched tightly... bleary eyed and immune to curiosity. Produced by Postie, photo by Ruslan Alekso.
The little tartan shopping trolley had been brand new for four years. It had sat it the corner, collecting dust and detritus while adjusting to its new role, ridiculing its owner with its garish colours.