Works

Musician | Writer | Narrator

[phoenixjgardner]

I've updated and revamped the old website, check it out 😊

Phoenix J, Adelaide Entertainer, Singer, Songwriter

[phoenixjgardner]

[phoenixjgardner]

[phoenixjgardner]

I've decided to start narrating my stories! Check them out on YT :)

[phoenixjgardner]

Regal Red Splatter

This is supposed to be gross, just go with it ;)

Crunch, critter, crawl Legs splayed, a regal sprawl My sweet kitty’s sustenance In a mewling utterance

Regal red spatter Gorged on, tawny fur made flatter My darling, have your fill Of precious wine to distil

Bones crackle, squish Your happiness, a wish No matter what it may entail My love for you, the holy grail

[phoenixjgardner]

The Click Beetle

I sat on the porch waiting for my parents to come home. Freeing a sigh, I squinted up at the bright light above the door, signalling night time. My stomach rumbled, and I rolled onto my back and pet it gently. Food will come soon, little belly, it’s not like it used to be. They were late, but that was okay. I’d go for a wander around the yard. Maybe I’d find some click beetles to study.

There was a maze of bushes and shrubs up the very rear of our property. We lived on what could be a farm, but there weren’t any farm animals to speak of, just the three cats. Sometimes they helped me find beetles, but usually they kept their distance from me. I was still trying to figure out why that was, I was always nice to them. Cats were weird, anyway.

I weaved my way through the first lot of shrubs and kicked at the dirt, hoping to disrupt a beetle home. A little click beetle jumped out and raced in the opposite direction, and I chased it until I had it nestled in my palms. Success! I sat down in the dirt next to the old chair we kept down here, watching it for a while. It flitted between my legs with no escape. Shadows covered it, and I looked up to see a big, black cat staring down at me from the chair, the biggest cat I’d ever seen, maybe ever; ever since ––

I squeezed my eyes shut, a sudden barrage of images fluttered through my brain like an album full of butterflies carrying memories. I was a baby; then a little boy running around the yard chasing my mama; then a big truck. The truck got too close, too fast. I frowned, looking back up at the big cat. It’s kind brown eyes seemed to know me, and she lazily lifted a front paw to lick, then swiped her ear gently to clean it.

‘You should come home with me,’ it said. Wait, what? The cat just spoke to me. ‘Uh, are you talking to me? I’m already home,’ I replied shakily. ‘Your home is with me, my kitten. This is your old home where you had your human life.’

I looked down at my hands – no, my paws, the click beetle still running between them. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught both our attention. ‘You must make a choice, kitten. Come with me, your real mama, or stay here with your old, human mama. She doesn’t know you the way I do.’ The big cat jumped off the chair and licked my cheek lovingly.

I looked between her and the house where my parents stood, calling my name while clanging a tin of cat food. Giving the big cat a nuzzle, I padded back to the house to my mama.

It was time for dinner.

[phoenixjgardner]

Reading List

♥ Self-Help Guide for Insomniacs

♥ How to be Goth in the 21st Century

♥ Medical Journal of the Circulatory System

♥ When Red is Your Love Language

♥ Blood Types 101

♥ How to Make Friends and Not Drink Them

♥ Interview With a Vampire

[phoenixjgardner]

[phoenixjgardner]

Moon Bug

[phoenixjgardner]

Country Mornings

Mornings are noisy in the country, despite what people think. Despite the lack of traffic and ordered chaos that you get in the city. It's a different kind of noise. Sitting here, I can hear birds chirping hungrily. Sheep are baaing, even their little lambs with their high-pitched voices. An occasional horse neighs. I can't actually see any of them.

It is by no means quiet.

But it is a noise much more welcome than that of the suburbs.

A baby magpie begs for some food. A finch chippers away at its mate, sounding almost scolding. A butcher bird sings a beautiful song.

My cat breaks through a bunch of weeds and finds herself on the upturned trampoline.

Ah crap.

[phoenixjgardner]

Swoon to Death

The following is a textual intervention on the poem Bright Star by John Keats.

My black leather jacket creaks against the dark red, worn, leather of the corner booth as I flick my black hair from my face. Smooth jazz plays over the speakers, and hushed conversations flow like honey. A steady stream of chatter trickles into my mind, but I ignore it. They can wait; I am undertaking my ablutions.

I sit in a shadowy corner of the club, the smoke from my cigarette swirling around me, a glass of absinthe before me. She favours me with a glance, quieting the chatter.  I am alone but for her holding my eremitic gaze as I worship at my altar. Her wild, dark curls are tamed into a messy ponytail. Her mocha-coloured skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat under the dim lighting; she’s been working hard tonight.

Her name is Ever, and she will be mine.

Everybody comes to me, in time. Just as the oceans will rise and the snow on the peaks of mountains will melt, I am inevitable. For millennia, I have brought peace to those who ask for it, mercy to the suffering and, for some, brutal, heart-rendering finality.

I am Death.

A smile crosses Ever’s face, and a stillness washes over me.  If only I could stop time herself, take her in my arms and return us to the stratosphere for eternity. But I must wait, for I will not dim her beauty in all that Life has given her.  For us to be together, she must succumb to that which I dare not deliver her yet, should she lose her precious light.

I stamp out my cigarette amongst the others and tip back the rest of my absinthe, shaking my head to clear the haze.  I take one last look at my love as she bids me goodnight, giving me substance for my dreams until next I see her. And so live, Ever, or else swoon to Death.

[phoenixjgardner]

Reflection

The cafeteria has an atmosphere like none I’ve felt anywhere else. It’s in my university, and there’s something in the air here which shines through the wall-length windows like the intermittent sun.

Hope.

Potential.

Wonder.

Students and teachers alike are dotted around the room. You can tell which is which by what they wear, the students much more casual, the teachers more professional.

The smell of freshly ground coffee tickles my senses along with freshly baked pastries. A small kerfuffle breaks out when an older, hunched-over lady pays for her decaf all in small change, her money spilling out of her purse onto the counter.

Surrounding me are timber booths interspersed with big tables and stools. People sit either alone with a table between them, or in small groups engrossed in animated discussion. An area with comfy chairs is on one side, and a recreation area is on the other with – oh, it’s a piano! My fingers itch at the sight of it, but a lady singing about coffee plays over the speakers. I wouldn’t want to ruin the vibe.

My face lights up, a smile on my lips for anyone who looks my way.

Only, nobody seems to look my way at all.

A girl sits in a booth on her phone, her airbuds firmly in her ears. Her blonde hair is in a bun, and she smiles at her phone while she taps her foot against the table leg. Sitting down in the chair opposite, I watch her cheeks glow with just a hint of blush.

Her phone is apparently much too appealing, and I am ignored. Sighing, I get up and stand in front of a vending machine full of snacks. The door beside me opens and I am accosted by a large black Labrador. I squeal with delight as I sit on the floor while he licks my face.

“Harvey, what on earth are you doing?” A lady tugs on Harvey’s leash, pulling him away from me.

“No, he’s fine, really, I –“

“Come on, Harvey, let’s go.” I am interrupted without even a glance, and Harvey is pulled away.

I huff a little and head towards the window. Behind me the smell of coffee is turning into hot chips and nachos and pies. I breathe it in appreciatively.

Watching the reflections of people in the window I realise…where is mine?  I wave my hands around, but I see nothing. I rush back to the vending machine, hoping it’s just a trick of the light, but there’s nothing of me in the glass here either.

A group of students come through the door and bustle right through me.

Am I invisible?

A rush of memory hits me, and I find myself laying flat on the floor, staring up at the fluorescent lights.

I remember living in the old house at the front of the campus.

I remember falling down the stairs when I was 12 years old.

I remember the sound my neck made when it snapped, killing me instantly, my mother crying over me. “May,” she cried, “May, please don’t be gone.”

I sit up, staring out the window. Nobody sees my reflection. Not even me.

I live here still.

Amongst the hope.

The potential.

The wonder.

The inspiration for this story came from a YouTube video about the haunting of Murray House, a building on the Magill campus of the University of South Australia.