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10 years on

New Yarra’s Edge development takes shape
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Away from the desk

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Chamber update

Bricks and Clicks
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Docklands Secrets

Secret solved: Docklands’ apocalyptic public art
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Top five street style trends
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Health and Wellbeing

Modern approach to musculoskeletal pain
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Tram no Metro - Bike danger
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Fear of the dentist? Fear not!
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Owners Corporation Law

10-year caretakers’ agreements
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College dropout turned street cleaner
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Vertical village voting
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Street Art

Goodbye from Blender Studios
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The District

Photography is a powerful medium
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State government follows UK lead on cladding
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What Women Want - With Abby Crawford Image

What Women Want - With Abby Crawford

Winter is for comfort, right?
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WordPlay - March 2012

28 Feb 2012

Docklands Writers brings you a serial story, each month’s instalment written by a different writer from the group.  You can real the whole ongoing story at http://www.docklandsnews.com.au/columns/list/category/word-play/
We trust you enjoy it; feedback is always welcome as are membership enquiries to (JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)

2.  LOOT by Rose Mercer

 

Kate drew back in disbelief, her eyes seeing what her brain rejected.   

“Is that ...”

Tom grabbed the trowel out of Kate’s hand, his body shaking slightly.  “Just leave it, love.  I’ll close it up and we’ll forget we ever saw it.  I told you I had a bad feeling buying on the 13th floor.”

Kate leaned forward, fascinated.  She enlarged the hole with her hands, dropping wet plaster on the floor.  The wall was crammed with bundles of notes, hundreds, thousands, bound with wide tape as though from a bank but sporting something like a Maltese cross with an Egyptian-style symbol.   As the light hit the bundles, the symbol on the tape around the money changed colour and glittered, almost alive.

“It’s crammed full.  A fortune!   We could buy anything we want, go anywhere.  You know how you’ve dreamt of a black Maserati?  You can have one.  Hell, you can have two.  We can buy the upstairs apartment and put a staircase between them.  Anyone visiting can have their own space ... oh the possibilities ...”  Kate’s eyes took on an eerie, demented sparkle.

“For fuck’s sake Kate.  Don’t you realise what this is? It’s cursed …”  

“Curses aren’t real; don’t be silly.  Let’s get it out fast,” Kate said reaching in but Tom grabbed her arm urgently.

“Then don’t call it a curse.  Call it whatever you want, but you have no idea what that symbol means.  Don’t touch it!  I’m going to fix this wall and first thing tomorrow I’m phoning the King Real Estate office.  We’re outta here.” Tom realised he was spitting his words now.  Fear and anger and yes, disgust at Kate, were warring in his mind.

“I’m not leaving all this!”  Kate’s chin jutted out as it always did when she meant to have her way.

“I’m not staying here.  I’m fixing this wall and I’m out.  You have no idea what you’re playing with here.  I cannot, I will not touch that stuff and I will not sleep here.  Stay if you want, but I’m sleeping at Allan’s tonight and every night.  I’m not coming back here.  Ever!  You hear me?  Ever!”

“Now Tommy darling.  Be reasonable.  Look at that view – Victoria Harbour and Bolte Bridge ... we’ll never get it anywhere again.”  Tom shook her clinging frame off him.  She was using her body to get what she wanted and this time, finally, it wouldn’t work.

“You have no idea, do you?  Well I do.”  With that Tom grabbed the trowel and set to work fast, controlling his rising dread as best he could.

“Wait, Tom!  Please, let’s have a drink and talk about this.  I have an idea ...”

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