Empire Times 49.6

Be A Better Human is a campaign that focuses on afrmatve consent, sexual assault and sexual harassment, respectul relatonships, and informaton regarding support services and reportng. We’re encouraging everyone who is part of our community to consider how we can ‘beter’ our behaviour. Learn more fusa.edu.au/babh

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF COUNTRY

Empire Times acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the lands in which its editors, contributors and readers live, and honors Elders past and present. Empire Times is printed and distributed on the traditional lands of the Arrernte, Barngarla, Boandik, Dagoman, Erawirung, Gunditjmara, Jawoyn, Kaurna, Larrakia, Nauo, Ngadjuri, Ngarrindjeri, Peramangk, Ramindjeri, Wardaman, Warumunga, and Yolngu peoples. We acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded, and that this land is stolen. We stand in solidarity

Issue 6

Join the Team!

Contributors

Charlotte Elliot Conor Brown Evangelia Karageorgos Harrison Stewart Hannah Zadow Jessica Rowe Mark Guvier Samantha Long Tahlia Dilberovic Vinny Moore Zofa Kolodziej

Front Cover John Simons Masthead Kienan McKay

Empire Times is always on the look out for new contributors. We accept written and visual pieces. If you would like to contribute to your student mag, fick us an email at empiretimes@finders.edu.au

What is ET?

Empire Times is a publication of the Flinders University Student Association (FUSA). It is your student magazine. The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of the editors, Flinders University, or Flinders University Student Association. Reasonable care is taken to ensure that Empire Times articles and other information are up-to-date and as accurate as possible, as of the time of publication, but no responsibility can be taken by Empire Times Magazine for any errors or omissions contained herein

Editors Jessica Rowe

Tahlia Dilberovic

The sixth issue of Empire Times is themed around secrets and confessions. So, let’s start with one – this isn’t our original editorial. What was supposed to introduce you to a piece that lies inside, about an editor’s experience with being stalked, will now be replaced with carefully watered-down allusions to censorship and what could have been. Dear reader, we do not like to keep secrets from you.

The editor was inspired to tell their story by an article published in On Dit earlier this year, entitled ‘Fuck your Stupol’. The article discussed the ugly side of student politics, and the violence committed against her by men within her own faction. The author of this piece remained anonymous, citing fear as a key factor. Our editor was pleased to see that On Dit had aforded a space for survivors to share their stories, but at the discretion of our Association, they have not been allowed to tell their own story the way they believe it should be told, here in Empire Times. Thus, our editorial, and the article itself, needed to change. Do not be alarmed when you see sections of what was a thoughtful and impactful piece redacted.

But why is telling these stories so important? Well, because is 2022, we are still silencing victims in the name of protecting the reputations of abusers. But also, because when people speak up about their experiences, it creates space for others to share their own. We speak solidarity into existence, and we create space for our sisters. So, we want to thank the original author for coming forward. We are glad her story is out there, and the institutions she entrusted with her secrets held space for her.

Within this issue, you have trusted us with your secrets, your confessions. You have poured your heart out in poetry and helped us deconstruct stigma; honours students, Hannah and Charlotte provide us with a crash-course on their thesis topics, while Evangelia explores the words and labels attributed to her by society.

As always, you will fnd political correspondence with Flinders political factions, as we approach the upcoming student elections. Here, you will fnd out what each faction considers to be their greatest sin, and Editor Jess takes you through her favourite secret date spots in Adelaide. We hope you enjoy issue six.

Words by Evangelia Karageorgos (A human of smaller persuasion)

“I do think language matters, but I also think we on the left are often so militant about other people’s words that we exude the very same classism, racism and ableism we’re condemning.” Adding “…not everyone has the same access to information…”

Are we an over sensitive society? Is this progress?

Honours Interview

Cannibalism and Other Modern Horrors:

Charlotte Elliot on the Epicurean Cannibal

5 Secret date spots in Adelaide

by Jessica Rowe

Ok, maybe these spots are no secret, but how many times are you really going to take your girlfriend to the Botanic Gardens before she inevitably gets bored, and starts swimming to the other side of the duck pond just to try something new? Despite what you may think, Adelaide isn’t all boring, and hidden within our city there are many lovely locations to explore with someone that you like. Being in a relationship where niether of us have a car, these secret spots are all non-driver friendly!

1. Boulangerie 113 & Ginger’s Cafe

One of my absolute favourite places to spend the day is Goodwood. With a variety of cute shops and eateries conviently located on the main street. Start off with brunch at Ginger’s vintage lounge bar, a spacious but warm environment with a delicious menu. I recommend the French toast with poached pear, lemon curd and berries. However, you might want to save your sweet tooth for an almond croissant, as Boulangerie 113 is just a minute’s walk down the road where you can enjoy fresh pastries and breads.

2. MOD.

Sick of going to the Art Gallery of SA everytime you want an art-fx? Good thing MOD. in Adelaide’s city centre, offers an alternative. Mixing technology, science and art, MOD. is described as “a futuristic museum of discovery.” Something that gives the MOD experience an upper-hand when it comes to taking a date there, is that its interactive. You won’t have to worry too much about making small talk and trying to sound like you know about art when your busy engaging with AI together!

3. Indie Store-hopping

The perfect thing to do when you have a whole day to kill. Adelaide CBD is home to some really cool creative spaces, vintage shops, and record stores. Wandering through places like O’Connell’s bookshop or Rerun Records is sure to spark up conversations about what kind of music, books and media each of your like. A great way to fnd a common interest or debate over your opposing tastes! Adventure into 27 at Charles Street Plaza to see art from local makers. Or, search for old-school gems together at Fox On The Run Vintage on Rundle Street. You’d be surprised at how many vinyl and vintage stores are nestled throughout our so-called ‘boring’ city. Pick and choose from the plethora of interesting shops that you and your date can explore.

4. Sturt Gorge River Trails

Non-drivers who love getting out in nature, I’m going to change your life! The Sturt river gorge trail has an entrance near the Flinders University train station, which means if you’re based in the city the trail is only a 22 minute train ride and 15 minute walk away, and assuming that many readers live in this area anyway it may be very close to home. I suggest this date to those who are already in some kind of relationship, you don’t want to be stuck on a hike with someone you aren’t sure about! For safety and sanity reasons! The trails range from 30 minutes to 4 hours.

5. Extra Chicken Salt

Extra Chicken Salt is a bar and eatery that offers a classy yet fun energy with great service. On Peele street, just off Hindley, the venue’s colourful lighting and disco ball gives it a groovy and underground feel. I would even go so far to argue that going on a frst date here for dinner and drinks may invoke that beautiful ‘anything could happen’ feeling you get on exciting nights out, certainly supported by their creative and adventorous menu. (p.s if you order a fuffy duck cocktail they put a rubber duckie in it.)

1. What do you make of the Green and Teal ‘wave’ in 2022 federal election?

2. Which of the 7 deadly sins would you attribute to your party?

3. ‘Unfollow me if you voted X’ – Is it a valid sentiment or is it just virtue-signalling?

[Political Correspondence]

LEFT Socialist Alternative

1. It’s no surprise that voters took one look at the kind of ‘opposition’ that the Labor party ofered to the crisis-ridden Liberals, and voted for Greens and Independents instead. Te ALP came to the election with a small target strategy, banking their success on the fact that they weren’t headed by Scomo. In a time of rising infation, war, and rapidly advancing climate disasters, the ALP ofer nothing to get behind. Labor come to the election committed to handing out tax cuts to the rich, reducing already inadequate emissions reductions targets and turning their backs on refugees.

Te Greens came to the election with more lef-wing, social democratic demands. Taxing billionaires to fund things like public health and abolishing student debt had a clear resonance with young inner-city voters. However, what the Greens say and what they do once they’re in is a diferent story.

Tere is nothing progressive about the Teal’s approach to tackling climate change. Tere is no mention from them about the drive for proft being the source of climate disasters. Instead, they look to market solutions like green-washing as the solution.

2. Wrath. It is hard to face a system where 10% of the global population own 76% of all wealth and not feel rageful. It’s even harder to face the fat that this same minoirty don’t just passively sit o this pile of wealth, but they rob, steal, and kill to keep growing it. Our planet is being cooked alive by fossil fuel bosses. Every second it feels like the brink of war will breach, the lives of millions dangled in the balance so the rich can fght over trade routes and resources. But resources only mean anything to them in so far as they can make them richer. If food cannot be sold, it’s lef to rot. Meanwhile, the rest of us languish, working all our lives to survive while the bosses kick back and watch the cash roll in. It’s right to feel wrathful, but that wrath can be cultivated. We can use it to fght this rotten ssytem and build a new world based on collaboration and human need. Be wrathful, fght capitalism

3. While social media is important for spreading political ideas, it can be a problem when social movements see it as the main arena of debate. Sometimes, it seems the best course of action we can take is convincing our followers of a certain point of view and blocking out opposing opinions. Tis might win some over, but ofen the most important arena of political contestation is social movements on the ground and grassroots campaigning. For example, about 5 years ago, in Victoria, the Campaign Against Racism and Facisim was formed to combat the right-wing Reclaim Australia movement. Social media helped spready the word, but the reason that Reclaim don’t mobilise is because there was a real countermovement that was organised, they took the fght to the streets and one. Tis is the strategy that we need to fght conservative forces.

Student Unity

1. Tis election showed one thing - people are sick of the same old Liberal Party and want action on climate, more transparency and a government that respects women. Currently the Liberals are fghting over either being more conservative (because somehow that will win votes) or being more liberal. Te Greens and Teal Independents have many crossovers especially in policies mentioned above. Both of these groups have good strong approach towards youth, demonstrated via their policies and their youth wings (Greens with Young Greens to an independent Zoe Daniel’s Generation Zoe). Queensland was a big win for the Greens, in the cities. While not all Teals are in the cities, so it’s a sign - the environment and climate is a concern across the country.

2. Sadly, the reality is that no party is perfect, and almost all organisations will have people that embody all of the 7 deadly sins. To sit back and say my party is the best and doesn’t have any of those attributes is unrealistic. Te 7 deadly sins are human behaviour. All Ideologies have their faws. However, the ideas of our party are not sins but virtues. For example, unions aim for the bettering Australians’ lives by improving working conditions, increasing pay, and guaranteeing workers’ rights. Labor Unity believes in Social Democracy. We believe that Social Justice and Democracy has us forward and will continue to move us forward.

Afer his dismissal, Prime Minister Gough Whitlam, said “Maintain your rage and enthusiasm for the campaign for the election now to be held and until polling day.” Hold onto your wrath at injustice, use it for good and the ballot box.

3. We live in a social democratic free society with a secret ballot. You don’t have to tell them who you voted, nor should you be pressured in telling who you voted for. Tat person does have the freedom to unfollow you on social media, but who cares. It’s your right to keep your ballot secret. We are blessed to have preferential voting in this country, so technically you will be voting for all parties (but your last one) on the green ballot.

RIGHT Flinders Liberal Club

1. In relation to our party, the Teal wave was a signifcant loss of votes for Liberal, however this atomisation of the party gives us the opportunity to double down on our values going forwards, and act with greater consistency with regards to the principles of the party.

2. Pride might be ftting as we are inarguably the more individualist of the major parties, however lust would also ft as we are particularly good looking.

3. No. Eliminating everyone from your life who doesn’t share your exact opinion is such a bad idea it almost doesn’t require elaboration. If you never hear anything to challenge your views, you will never be able to develop arguments and convictions for what you believe in and value.

Content Warning: discussions of emotional abuse. Support services are available at Flinders University Health and Counselling Serivces or at 1800-RESPECT

This article has been altered, with signifcant redactions, on the instructions of FUSA

The Abolitionist and Her Stalker

Words by Tahlia Dilberovic

In my frst-ever politics class, my lecturer challenged us to pick a topic, any topic, and he would make it political. Everything has to do with politics, he would argue. As I complete my fnal year, I have to wonder what he would have said fve years ago if I had put my hand up and said, ‘stalking’.

While discussions around gendered violence are more prevalent than ever, stalking is rarely talked about outside of mid-tier crime procedurals. Stalking is a type of harassment involving repeated, inappropriate contact that is unwanted and unreciprocated; it almost always constitutes emotional abuse. It is an incredibly gendered crime, with approximately 85% of stalkers being male – and, despite its absence from our conversations surrounding gendered violence, a woman is just as likely to be stalked in her lifetime as she is to experience sexual violence.

I knew my stalker. He is a student here at Flinders, and he probably sat in that exact same politics class. Over the year and a half, I knew him he frequently displayed alarming behaviour towards women. He would expose female classmates to pornography, hint at sexual kinks; fetishize Asian and Eastern European women and their cultures; and paint any woman who dared to reject him as mentally unstable and fundamentally damaged.

Eventually, his behaviour towards me grew disturbing. He would obsess over my partner, vacillating between adoring him and competing with him; he would attempt to insert himself into our lives and join in on our dates; he would show up at my workplace whenever I was rostered alone; and he would attend my classes without being enrolled. Frequently, women would approach me when I was with him, friends and strangers alike, to check that I was ok – that is how unhinged his behaviour towards me often became.

Finally, my partner stepped in and asked that he leave us alone; it was our anniversary that day and we had been having lunch together when he once again inserted himself into

our date. He became livid at this boundary and began bombarding me with messages disparaging my partner and threatening me, warning me to be ‘more careful’ in how I spoke to him. This incident was the frst time his behaviour towards me fully clicked, and for the rest of the day I just couldn’t shake the pit in my stomach. Eventually, he sent me a list of demands and suggested I break up with my partner. I blocked that day.

In the eight months since, has never once stopped trying to contact me or reinsert himself in my life. I have had to block him on every platform – Facebook, Instagram, my high-school Snapchat account, TikTok, even my emails.

Following the initial block, he went on a smear campaign against my partner, and spread a false narrative about why I had blocked him. would manipulate mutual friends and acquaintances into providing him access to me; forcing me to either divulge deeply private and triggering information or be complicit in his lies and his narrative.

Stalking is a deeply contextual crime and that makes it both isolating and completely paralysing. For months after this situation began, I constantly felt anxious and on-edge. It is always frightening, as a woman, to realise that a man has no respect for your autonomy or your boundaries.

Whenever a new piece of information made its way back to me, I felt physically sick. What left me reeling seemed innocuous to those around me, and I felt alone in my fear.

Academically, I stopped showing up and participating in my tutorials because I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t be there. In online classes, the idea that he could see me, hear me speak, and engage with me under the guise of academia, flled me with dread; and many times, I would have to log of when he began speaking. This didn’t stop him, and several times academic schedules were coincidently changed at the last minute to place us in the same location at the same time. Socially, I

couldn’t attend events because he might have been there; I couldn’t engage with on-campus clubs because he was actively involved in them. I distanced myself from my cohort because of their proximity to ; and the closeness to me that that proximity aforded

Eventually, after months of telling myself that it wasn’t that bad, his complete disregard for my boundaries left me feeling so unsafe that I reached out to an old friend who had witnessed this person’s behaviour towards another woman. I asked him directly if he genuinely thought I was in danger. He said yes.

In the wake of that answer, I was left with another question – well, what can I actually do about that?

I consider myself to be an abolitionist; I do not believe in the carceral system’s ability or desire to protect victims or provide any meaningful justice. The reality is if I were to seek and receive ‘justice’ through our current system, it would likely rob a person of their autonomy, their education and the chance to change. The carceral system causes harm to all involved, and when I advocate for its dissolution, I don’t believe that I myself am excluded from that. The fght for restorative justice does not rest solely with systems, institutions or simply someone else. It rests with me. This is a person I cared for, and I simply cannot reconcile that.

What I can reckon with, however, is the system that allowed this to happen. Because it is rarely ever the stalker, or the abuser, themselves that traps people in these situations. More often than not, it is the systems we have in place that allow this behaviour to continue.

My stalker was the . behaviour towards me occurred partially within this system; and while random women would willingly intervene on my behalf to protect me, his own party remained silent and allowed his

behaviour to continue without repercussion. Heads of his faction were present while he stalked me, threw cultural insults at me, lied about my relationship, and slandered my partner. They openly acknowledged distubring behaviour towards me; hell, they even gossiped about it at party conferences.

After I cut ties, they continued to invite to their parties, drink alongside him and on multiple occasions encouraged his attempts to contact me. They even put in a good word for him for a job within . It was in their silence that he maintained power. But they can’t have mine. One of the key pieces of advice given to victims of stalking is to tell everybody. It is through community that we can fnd safety.

In 1971, the New York Radical Feminists convened a ‘rape speak out’ where hundreds gathered to witness 40 women give testimony to their experiences of gendered violence. Alix Kate Shulam described this as ‘expressing outrage – the outness of rage’.

So here I am, telling everybody and outing my rage; for how I was treated and for how I was not protected by a

I know as I write this my stalker and will read it. Truthfully, I am afraid of what that could mean. But transformative justice asks how we can respond to harm without creating more harm, and it also asks us how we can actively work to cultivate safety, connection and transparency in our own communities; and frankly that work begins with some very difcult conversations.

Your confessions

“One time when I was like 13 I went on Omegle and fashed random dudes my tits”

“A guy in public asked me once what breed of dog I had, and because I had my headphones on and was playing music loudly I didn’t understand what he said, I gave the blunt answer of “no” which left us in an awkward silence for 5 minutes.”

“I’d

“Everyone thinks I’m tough and emotionless but in fact I’m just really good at hiding it.”

“Once I grazed my ankle on purpose and asked for it to be bandaged up just so I could get some form of attention in primary school.”

“I spent like an hour in therapy talking about the horror movie Tuske. I haven’t seen it.”

“Tim

sacrafce my family to save myself in an apocalypse.”

Burton’s Charlie and The Chocolate Factory is my guilty pleasure.”

BLACK OUT

POETRY COMPETITION

Defnition: Black out poetry involves taking a pre-existing text and redacting words by blacking them out, in order to create a new text

1st Place

Angela Machete, Untitled 2nd Place

Zofa Kolodziej, Celebration 3rd Place Harrison Stewert, Her

By Angela Machete

I ran

I ran along cracked corners my spine torn frayed this was what hard years had done intense less glamourous complicated I turned a page

God, I read

I just

ffeen times over she sat on this hill watching the sunrise. Te place I went to read every day a picture book about the place i was alone though I talk to anyone they want to talk and tell you things sit alone with my thoughts

Every single day

Tat’s why I liked her Te girl

I didn’t know her But at 12 o’clock every day, I’d stand up and smile I didn’t ask I just knew I knew that when she appeared that I’d smile she would always smile back we’d walk past each other and I’d head home I’d like her and she was like me thank-God. She seemed content every day She was my height with auburn hair She wore a braid her eyes had always struck me icy blue

unsure whether ‘never did I see

3rd Place

Always

as if concealed behind that beauty she was 2 years older she held herself with poise; as if she was a villian so here I was. 12:05 waiting she would show her face I could not focus I don’t know her well. She was a random girl. I’d seen every day I’d seen her every day she arrived the beautiful oak tree she fell and hit her head I remember it so vividly. She detonated into hundreds of tiny shards

Harrison Stewart

Moon and Stars

by Samantha Long

Molly Student President

Is addicted to Redbull and small marsupials. Absolutely terrifed of fsh!

Riley General Council Member

Has worked on 18 manuscripts in the last two years, only four of those have been completed while the others have been completely ditched.

Darlyn Welfare O fcer

Has played over 645 hours on Animal Crossing New Horizons.

Billy Environment O fcer

Ugly cried when he met Pig the dugong at the Sydney Aquarium…. When he was 21.

Jess Mature Age Students O fcer

Is a biology major that has nearly thrown up in multiple lectures due to a crippling fear of parasitic organisms.

Liv Women’s O fcer

“I once worked at a bistro and every customer assumed I was French, so they spontaneously decided to practice their language skills with me. I got tired of telling them I wasn’t from a French speaking country, so I tried my best to understand them and answered confdently in the little French that I knew at the time. Then I would repeat what they said in my head and parrot it to the chef, and he would translate for me”

Shanii Queer O fcer

Straight.

S tu dent CouncilConfessions

StudentCouncil

StudentCouncil Conf e s s oi sn

tudentCouncil Conf e s s oi sn 32

dentCou

Trigger Warning: Discussion of sexual assualt, sexual harrasment, trauma & victim blaming.

Divinnity

Vinny Moore is a Creative Industries Student at Flinders who expresses themselves through colourful, and novel creations you can hang from your very own ear lobes. Being as lovely as their designs, Vinny spoke to ET ed Jess about how they got started, the fashion industry, and what inspires their pieces.

I started making designs for my business mid-2020 when I discovered artists in a similar medium. The ever curious mind I am, I decided to look into how they were made and to my surprise I discovered they could be made using software I was learning at the time through my studies - that’s when I thought “oh! I could do that.”

I changed courses a few times during my time at Flinders University. At frst I was studying Costume Design… which I’m sure says a lot about my initial interest in fashion. However, I decided that wasn’t for me and as of now, have changed into studying a Bachelor of Creative Industries. Balancing my uni workload & running my store can be a bit of a challenge, especially while also having a disability. I’m not going to pretend it’s not. I think my advice to others in a similar position would be to know your limits and accommodate for yourself as much as possible.

At frst, I was making only what I would describe as “fan merchandise” out of an intense love for some of my niche video game interests, primarily out of a desire to wear these items myself… That is something I would say I continue to embody in my designs - I love to create things that I myself would wear and not necessarily what is “trendy” in fast fashion. Although I still make video game inspired designs, I have been expanding my range to also include a lot of other cute, colourful & quirky designs.

I know that made-to-order items are out of the question for me, so I primarily create items in batches when I have time and when I feel like it. I also take an occasional hiatus when needed and batch pack orders on certain days while listening to my podcasts to relax. As much as I love to create, it is important to me that my health and wellbeing comes frst and that my store remains something that is a fun creative output – it is just a happy bonus for me that I get to share it & bring joy to others.

One thing I really dislike about the fashion industry is “fast fashion” and the waste it produces. As a result, I try to use quality materials so that my products can be treasured for a long time. Most of my products are made of a type of plastic, while this isn’t the most eco-friendly, I have become effcient in laying out fles before laser cutting so that there is minimal waste. A little fun fact about my store is that a good amount of my packing supplies are also recycled - I have never once purchased bubble wrap for my store, it’s all hoarded from packaging from other purchases.

My hope is that my store can remain a creative output & a source of joy for others for a long time to come. In the future, I would also love to do collaborations with other creators/brands as well as take on more commission work. I think there’s something really special about making something unique for someone else – and it’s not something I currently get to do often.

“She won’t be there,” Darius promised with a sad shake of his head, “You can’t keep expecting to see her there.”

“I can,” Barney paused to throw back the last dregs of his drink, “And I will.” He dragged a fst across his face and wiped away the stray droplets of moisture. He staggered to his feet, brushing of Darius’ attempt to steady him as he swayed dangerously.

“She’ll be there,” He declared in a damp slur, “She knows I need to tell her something.”

“Barn, for Christ’s sake, just tell me,” Darius insisted with a worried frown, “She won’t be there. But I’m right here, right now. Just tell me,” He fnished in a near beg as Barney pushed him away.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Barney drawled in an imitation of sobriety, “I have to tell her. Only her.”

He stumbled towards the door, only vaguely occupied by thinking about why the foor seemed more uneven than usual. The majority of his focus was split between balancing his steps and protecting the words he needed to say from drunken invasion. “I have to tell her,” He murmured under his breath as he advanced another step, “I have to tell her.” He repeated the words in a broken mantra, trying and failing to break away when Darius snagged a shoulder to hold him in place. “She won’t listen to you,” Darius protested as he held on frmly, “Even if she’s there, she won’t listen to you.”

The words barely penetrated his inebriation, but they didn’t make any sense. Nothing did, it seemed. Barney understood only one thing, and it was the one thing he knew his friend never would.

“You’re only saying that because she’s pissed at you,” He argued bitterly, patience thinning rapidly, “She won’t listen to you. But she’ll listen to me. She always does.” “Barn, the only one who’s pissed in this scenario is you,” Darius grunted as he

overpowered his friend’s uncoordinated failing and dragged him back to the beaten-up sofa. “And I always listen to you, more than her. Just tell me. Whatever it is, just tell me. Please.”

Darius crouched in front of him with a sympathetic air, kind eyes and a hesitant smile.

Barney’s already blurred vision distorted incomprehensively when he reared back before bludgeoning his forehead against Darius’. A sickening crack cut through the air as his best friend fell to the foor in a senseless heap, clipping the cofee table in his descent.

It didn’t matter to Barney. He only cared about trying not to slip in the rapidly growing puddle of blood covering the tiled foor.

“Gotta tell her,” He repeated in a debauched mumble as he irritatedly wiped away the dribble of blood from his temple, “Have to tell her.”

He fought his way out of the cramped room and fumbled uselessly with the front door before staggering out into the frigid night. The barely buttoned dress shirt did little to protect him from the cold, and the chill ricochetted up his body as his bare feet padded down the driveway.

Barney derived little warmth from the pathetic shivering wracking his frame and the still sluggishly bleeding gash on his forehead as he clambered through the streets. Each step took him closer to imagined salvation and further from reason. Darius faded from Barney’s mind faster than he faded away on the lounge room foor until all that was left on either was a blood-covered echo.

Time passed in a meaningless jumble and vague blur of motion. Barney found himself at his destination as dawn crowned the sky, breathing gold and fre into the otherwise bleak night he had no hope of remembering. He careened to a stop, barely preventing himself from toppling of the jetty as the water swelled beneath him.

“Have to tell you,” He slurred as he pulled a blood-encrusted switchblade out of his pocket.

Flakes of wood peeled into the sea as his knife whittled away in the breaking dawn. The carving stopped abruptly when Barney inevitably slipped, slicing his hand on the blade and soundlessly falling victim to the waves. In his place, an unfnished confession scarred the crumbling structure.

Words by Anonymous

Honours Interview

Hannah Zadow on Abortion In Ireland

BALLROOM BLITZ.

Harrison Stewart

What a dashing woman, I thought to myself.

‘Hello handsome,’ she said as she passed.

The room was abuzz with conversation. Soft music drifted through the air mixing with the wafting of pig –which rose from the roasted swine that sat in the centre of the banquet table.

‘How pleasant.’

‘Look at the size of it!’

‘Must have taken a team to cook it!’

Cocaine craved lunatics. Fiends the lot of them. It had become increasingly obvious that this evening was a cover. The lavishness was far too extravagant. Gold laced curtains, silver plates, crystal glasses and soft music. And who could forget the pig? Its monstrous size was in itself a form of privilege. A show of wealth and prestige. All of it was intended for one thing. To hide a killer. The type of miscreant who typically fooled those of signifcantly less intellectual standing. By that description, this purveyor of deceit was yet to come into contact with me. 66 people paraded themselves around the ballroom. 66.

I recalled my notes, scribbled in my notebook on the night of the crime. The night that brought me here.

Called to the House of Lords. At 6 pm. Body found in offce 66B. Recorded as found. Door locked. Force required for entry. Books are strewn about the foor Empty mugs stained with red wine coupled with shreds of torn paper sitting on the desk. The desk is Agar – a rare and pricey wood. Very rare. Dust level – high. The offce is never cleaned. Estimation - 8 months since use. The body is slumped upon the desk. Eyes gouged and fngers missing. The suit on the deceased is fresh. Room smell – salty. Window open behind the desk. Estimation of death calculating the effects of the air. 6 hours. Empty brandy bottles around the corpse. Count – 11. Scrambled in the dust. One number, one word. 66 Guests.

66 guests. The very reason I was here. But what brilliant psychopath could gouge out the eyes and remove the fngers of someone like Lord Pemberton and proceed to throw a party of such luxury the night after. Beneath their gowns and waistcoats, brooches, and perfumes, were monsters. I threw my gaze around the room. By the freplace stood a tall woman. Her dress was a deep scarlet, embroidered with gems that glistened in the dim light. Right-hand holds the glass. Left-hand trembles. Not her. Beside her was a blonde gentleman; his powdered makeup puffed in clouds off his face as he laughed. He clutched his watch.

Eyes nervous. Loud laugh. Steady hands. Noted.

At the feet of the great roasted pig stood one of the few guests I knew by name. Lord Peter Fowl. He was an obtuse man, always eating or drinking greedily, often both. Hardly the sort of man to take the time to murder someone. Numnumnum,cherriesgood. I played his voice in my head. Imbecile.

I moved further into the room, the music rising gradually to its crescendo. Lord Fowl had made his way to the other side of the table and picked at the swine’s skin.

‘A bottomless pit is he not?’ A voice appeared beside me, and I turned – without fright- to a woman of exquisite beauty. She stopped next to me. Upon her lip rested a most impressive moustache.

‘He rarely leaves the table’s side no matter where he is…’

‘Indeed,’ I replied as a studied her, ‘I have not yet had the pleasure of your company.’

‘Marriéte Böhm, and you?’

‘Lukas Freyér.’

Her eyes fashed brilliantly and with a gloved hand she traced her moustache down to her lip.

‘The legendary General-Gendarmie-Inspector,’ she

reached out and grasped my hand. ‘Such an honour.’

Strong grip. Steady hands.

‘Please do not let this be the last time I see your face around here, Inspector. I sense a future between us.’

She moved away with fawless rhythm and left me in slightly stunned silence. Only now did I see her outft. Its extravagant size was one thing, its colour another: vibrant gold with silver lace. Stunned by her magnifcence I realised only now my failing. I had her name, but no true inclination as to who she was. Marriéte Böhm? Or perhaps she lied? How did I not know her?

I passed through the foyer, beneath the grand chandelier and through the arms of the staircase, toward the garden. I drew out my pipe from my pocket and stuffed it with tobacco. The warm night air brushed gently past me, and once more I set my eyes to work. Two people had spied me the moment I stepped out. One gentleman, who sported a thin boxed moustache and glisteningly wet slicked hair, diverted his gaze instantly. Garret Audore, chief secretary to the Prime Minister. Nervous. Brandy on the left, Cigar on the right. Unlit. He chatted quietly to another man. Who, having turned at the behest of Audore, faced quickly away. Who is that? I did not catch his face. Having decided to ignore them for the time being, I fnished packing my pipe, lit a match and took my frst puff, and sighted a table. I headed towards it, reached within my coat, and retrieved my notebook. Names. I need names. I fip through to the list. Garret Audore. Fraulein Hammerblot. Colonel Ubmersch. Garret Audore had seemed nervous from the moment he sighted me.

Steady hands had been my clue. The gouging of Lord Pemberton’s eyes had been done tremendously carefully. The eyes scooped with such precision that the killer’s hands had to have been steady. Focused. Beneath the names, I had more scribble. Employment possibilities – Artist, surgeon, waiter, writer, musician. All required steady hands. Through the corner of my eye, I continued watching Audore. Not yet certain of his innocence. He was still engaged in quiet, seemingly hushed, conversation

with his stout friend. In his hand, he still held the cigar. Unlit. Very casually he slowly held it out and passed it to the other gentleman. I glanced away. Hoping they have yet to notice me spying.

I continued smoking my pipe and closed my eyes to study the image of the cigar in my mind. Long. Leaf wrapped. Unlit. Dark brown. Emblem CA. I playback the frst sighting back in mind. It’s stuck in my mind. Lodged, like something is wrong, Gentlemen don’t hold and pass Cigars around like sweets. They smoke them. I glanced back at Audore. The small man is missing, and mistakenly I turn quickly to catch sight of him re-enter the house. The cigar in hand, shining under the light of the foyer. It is a fake. I feel my breath quicken.

My eye focuses keenly. A convincing, polished, wooden, fake. I rise to my feet and follow. Aware now I had given myself away. Audore gave chase, although calmy so as not to draw attention. I tap my pipe on the railing, emptying it. The embers disappear into the garden below. Entering the house, I watch as the stout man ascends the stairs. Fast. His footing is sure. Hands now gloved. Footsteps close in behind me. Audore.

A well-dressed couple glided past me, and I smiled politely. The lady recognised me, and I quickly raised a fnger to my lips and winked cheekily. She laughed and moved on.The stout man is gone. I race to catch up and quickly climbed the stairs. ‘Inspector Freyér.’ Audore called in a hushed voice, and I briefy spun around to face him. ‘If you know what is good for you sir, you will not continue up those stairs.’ His eyes were set like stone, and in his hand, he held a thin blade.

Time fell still. My eyes traced themselves from the blade back to Audore’s glare. One. Two. Three. The race was on. I sprint up the stairs and slide straight onto the foor, narrowly dodging as Audore swung his blade. The clink of metal against stone assured me he was close. I skate to my feet and turn to face Audore. His wet hair, now messy, stuck to his face.

Through gritted teeth he cursed me, ‘You shoulda listened to me Freyér, I gave you a chance.’

he points the blade at me, and steadied himself, prepared to strike. Like a frog’s tongue, I reacted within a second and raced towards Audore kicking him directly in the chest. He stumbled and reached out to balance himself. But failed. He screamed at the top of his lungs as he toppled over the railing. His brains splattered against the tiled foor of the foyer below. The blade scattered out of his hand. The panic such a scene caused was instantaneous. Those that had been conversing as the body fell were the frst to scream. Soon the news spread like fre through the party. The guests clamber to get a view of the body. My mind remained focused. The stout man still evaded me. Transitioning my steps from the foorboards to the carpet I made my way down the hall. On either side, identical doors led to unknown rooms. First, I had a scream. It was deep and long. Like someone being pulled or torn at. The stout man. I headed swiftly towards the noise, down the corridor and hooked a left. Following the mahogany walls, and scarlet carpet. Like a murmur on the wind, the scream faded. Almost as if it had disappeared into the walls themselves. I slow to a stop and listen. Audore had been armed tonight. He had to have expected trouble.

Carefully I listened to the silence. There it was, as slight as the creak of a door in the dead of night. A whimper. Cautiously I moved toward the noise. Heel to toe. Heel to toe. I inched my way forward slowly. Making my way to the red-painted door that marked the end of the hallway. The whimper was louder now. I placed my hand on the doorknob and twisted it gently. Unlocked. As the door swung open, the horror of the scene stood before me. The stout man sat behind a large, polished desk. He trembled and whimpered, attempting to discern if someone was in the room. For his eyes were no use. They sat in feshy lumps upon the foor, beside his fngers. The organs are neatly arranged in a circle. The killer had gotten to him frst.