Digging to Australia

My little brother Danny has decided to dig a tunnel to Australia. He’s out in the yard now, toy spade in hand. ‘You can’t do that,’ I said. ‘It’s too far. Besides, it’s really hot in the middle of the Earth.’ He looks at me. ‘Even hotter than that time we went to Spain and dad got sunburnt and we spent that evening peeling the skin off his back.’ That’s a mistake. I’ve reminded him of something disgusting. He loves disgusting things. ‘I hope that happens to me,’ he says. I shrug and leave him to it. Later I look outside. He’s gone. There’s just a massive hole. As I start to panic, the phone goes. ‘Hello?’ says a voice. ‘I’m calling from Melbourne. I’ve got your lad here. He’s fine, but, strewth, the skin ain’t half peeling off him.’ In the background, I can hear Danny giggling.


fiction by
David Cook

image by
Anastasya Shepherd