Mesh Tennakoon

Mesh Tennakoon was born in Sri Lanka and grew up in England, Papua New Guinea and Australia. She has also lived and worked in Hong Kong. Based in Melbourne, for now, Mesh frequently travels across Asia, which is where she gets most of her inspiration. She is in the process of writing two collections of short stories. One, of which, is loosely based on recently discovered family secrets. The story Kattadiya is from this collection. She holds a Bachelor of Science with Honours and a Bachelor of Laws from Monash University, Australia.

Kattadiya

Francis thought her bladder would burst; walking the extra one hundred yards to the outdoor lavatory was out of the question. The zinnia patch, adjacent to the patio would have to suffice. It was nearly 9 P.M. and pitch-black outside; no one would see. Grabbing the battered silver torch, left near the back door, she stepped out on to the patio. The sweet perfume of jasmine wafted through the warm evening air. Breathing in the calming fragrance, Francis moved the dim flashlight up and down to orientate herself in the dark. Almost immediately, various insects, drawn by the faint light, swarmed the rim of the torch as she held it out in front.

Issue 22, February 2019

Mesh Tennakoon

Mesh Tennakoon was born in Sri Lanka and grew up in England, Papua New Guinea and Australia. She has also lived and worked in Hong Kong. Based in Melbourne, for now, Mesh frequently travels across Asia, which is where she gets most of her inspiration. She is in the process of writing two collections of short stories. One, of which, is loosely based on recently discovered family secrets. The story Kattadiya is from this collection. She holds a Bachelor of Science with Honours and a Bachelor of Laws from Monash University, Australia.

Kattadiya

Francis thought her bladder would burst; walking the extra one hundred yards to the outdoor lavatory was out of the question. The zinnia patch, adjacent to the patio would have to suffice. It was nearly 9 P.M. and pitch-black outside; no one would see. Grabbing the battered silver torch, left near the back door, she stepped out on to the patio. The sweet perfume of jasmine wafted through the warm evening air. Breathing in the calming fragrance, Francis moved the dim flashlight up and down to orientate herself in the dark. Almost immediately, various insects, drawn by the faint light, swarmed the rim of the torch as she held it out in front.

Issue 22, February 2019

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