A hearty congratulations to Traralgon’s Tim Bell whose story, Chrysalis, won the inaugural 2024 Rise Up! Regional Writers Rise Short Story Competition.
Tim was born in The Valley in 1989 and has, more or less, stuck around. His favourite writers are Kurt Vonnegut, Douglas Adams and Nick Hornby. He enjoys high-intensity interval training, reading and listening to music, as well as his work as a personal carer. He has a deep interest in philosophy and psychology.
“He looks neither fast nor furious”
—
Iggy and Eddie sat silently, each waiting for a different bus, as Eddie observed an obese, balding, man standing by the bus timetable, wearing a black “Fast & Furious” hoodie. He looked somewhat stupefied, not about anything in particular, but as though it was his default mode of being – his mouth open slightly, his brow neutral, his eyes staring forward vacantly.
“He looks neither fast nor furious,” Eddie commented slyly.
Iggy looked up at the man and laughed.
“So, you still thinking about moving in with Sarah?” Iggy asked.
“Yeah, actually, that's where I'm headed now. Gonna see her new place.”
“New? Hasn't she lived there for months now?”
“Well, it's new to me.”
“So, what do you think she wants from you?”
“Hey? She just wants a roommate.”
“But not to help pay for rent?” Iggy asked, his face widening with incredulity.
“The way she puts it is that, since it's a commission flat, it's already cheap enough.”
“And so she's just going to let you use a free, fully furnished, spare room?”
“I mean… I guess so, yeah.”
“Sounds kinda suss to me.”
“Yeah, well, that's just because you're totally the opposite. You can't relate to selflessness.”
“I wouldn't call taking a commission flat away from people who need it selfless, exactly.” Iggy said, smiling.
“Well, you know, times are tough.”
“I still think she wants something.”
“Okay, so, like, she told me I need to stop crawling around in the dirt like a grub, that I need to move to Melbourne so I can become a butterfly, or a moth, or – I forget, exactly, but the conversation ended with her sending a YouTube music link to ‘Spread Your Wings’ by Queen.”
“The dirt? Like a grub? Come on, Latrobe City isn't that bad,” Iggy protested.
“Sure, I know, but -”
“- I mean, why doesn't she say how she really feels?”
Eddie laughed.
“Y’know…” Iggy said after a brief pause. “They did these studies with caterpillars, what they did was they had this totally benign substance, something that the caterpillars could recognise, but, which, like, was totally benign to them, like, they didn't find it offensive or attractive, but it was something they could smell.”
“Okay,” Eddie replied plainly.
“So, they sprayed this substance over, like, electrified panels, and, so, the caterpillars would crawl to where the substance had been sprayed, and the researchers would give the caterpillars little electric shocks until they developed a negative association to this once benign substance. You follow?”
“Like Pavlov’s dogs?”
“Yeah, kinda. And, so, they waited until the caterpillars formed into chrysalises… chrysali?”
“What's that?”
“What’s – you mean a chrysalis?”
“Yeah.”
“It's a cocoon.”
“So just say cocoon.”
“Fine, cocoon, whatever.” Iggy practically sighed. “Anyway, they waited until they turned into cocoons and then they cut open the cocoons and what they found inside was, like, just this liquid.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, but here's the thing: with some of these caterpillars they allowed them to turn into butterflies, and, so, they sprayed some of that same benign substance around and they found that the butterflies avoided it. They remembered what happened to them as caterpillars. Isn't that interesting?”
“Uhm, sure, I guess?”
“What do you mean ‘you guess’? What about that seems reasonable to you? They go from a cocoon full of -”
“You mean a chrysalis?” Eddie said, flashing Iggy a sardonic smile.
“Yeah, right.” Iggy responded, monotonal, looking down at his feet. “So, okay, but – you see what I'm getting at, right?”
“Well, first of all, I don't believe you.”
“I mean, it's true, I read -”
“- but it sounds like what you're telling me is: it doesn't really matter? Like, a new environment, bereft of environmental antecedents – who cares? Doesn't matter at all, makes no difference.”
“Jesus. And you're giving me shit for using the word ‘chrysalis’?”
Eddie laughed as the V/Line coach pulled into Morwell station.
“Anyway, this is me.” She said, offering Iggy a dap which he reciprocated.
“Alright, buddy. Have fun in Melbourne.” He said.
The next afternoon Iggy happened to be passing the bus stop when he noticed Eddie getting off a V/Line coach.
“Unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again,” Iggy said, approaching Eddie from behind and startling her somewhat.
“Shit, Iggy. What's up? Funny running into you again.”
“How was Melbourne?”
“Well…”
“What?”
“Sarah is a mess, as it turns out.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, and her fully furnished spare room is, no shit, a mattress on the floor.”
“Oh no.” Iggy said through laughter.
“I slept like a terrorist at a CIA blacksite.”
“So much for you being the grub.”
“Hmmm, well… Yeah.” Eddie said, mournful. “You know,
Iggy -” she continued “- I really thought this could be a fresh start for me, but I couldn't stop thinking about what you said. Sarah has this houseplant, a ficus, and she's had it for as long as she's lived in Melbourne, and, well, I couldn't help notice it was in the absolute worst condition I've ever seen it in, and it occurred to me the reason it's in such poor health is because it's never had a chance to adjust to its new environment. I mean, I damn near started crying at the thought – you were right, there's no quick fix – moving won't fix my life.”
“Right, but that doesn't mean you can’t.”
“Sure.”
“Every new dawn is a new chance, you know? That's what I believe anyway. You're right, there's nothing external that will help you become a new person. But within you? You have that power. Of course you do. We all do. You don't need to move to the city.”
“It seems a lot more complicated than that.”
“It is and it isn't. People quit smoking all at once, but then it takes them years to improve their diet. The important thing is you start, and then if you do stop you gotta start again. You just gotta learn not to stop starting.”
—
It’s Gippslandia’s privilege to present the top three prize winners of this inclusive new short story
competition. Funded by Federation University Australia, the Rise Up! Regional Writers Rise Short
Story Competition seeks to amplify voices that challenge the norm, offering fresh perspectives and
enriching the literary world (and our region!) with their untold stories.
NEXT YEAR'S COMPETITION — We've just heard from the Regional Writers Rise Festival Organisers that this wonderful event will be on again mid-next year, and that it's best to keep an eye on the festival website for the short story competition launch in early-ish 2025.
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