Whispering above my head, the torch’s irregular crackling was the only warmth I could confide in. The Brisbane river glared back at my gaze as the stars streamed across the decaying road. The slaughterhouse had been abandoned for too many years now; I was still busy contemplating how we ended up here. It was well past midnight. The light drizzle was comforting; it provided enough ambience to drown out the unfamiliar sounds that Hawthorn …showed first 75 words of 261 total…

…showed last 75 words of 261 total…panic. Huddled in a fragile circle, we each battled the passing odour as if age was attempting to penetrate our lungs. As we reached the farthest dampened corner, the stench grew stronger. A synchronous sense of vulnerability struck our veins and rapidly turned to panic. The frantic thumping of my companions’ footsteps sliding into the distance offered a brief opportunity to accept my isolated situation as I grasped the torch. Still, it offered no consolidation.