Drastic times demand drastic measures. I gestured for the man to step my way, pulled out a knife and took down my pants.
Her hair was orange like the van that hit her.
We arrive in West Papua, Indonesia, with hard-shelled suitcases, extra locks, and a crate of cheap eyeglasses donated by a non-profit to spread as we see fit.
We continue our Summer fiction with a story by Heidi Thompson, an undergraduate student in Creative Writing at Massey University.
When they found me, I was in great physical condition. I've seen the photos.
The girls slept until late afternoon, in a shallow grave of damp sand, sharing a single mangled blanket.
She likes it when it rains. The shushing of water against concrete is like white noise, except not empty.
All you need to build a house is a son-in-law, a poet and an orange, writes Jillian Sullivan.
It took a trip back to her homeland to make Agnes Almeida realise her heart lay in New Zealand.
Life happens when you work behind a Whangarei bar, writes Talia Shadwell.
It would have been the perfect New Year's Eve - if everything hadn't gone so horribly wrong for Michelle Duff.
Tim Jones' love life may have been in tatters, but a cracker test match made it a summer to remember.
Being a good kiwi is not as easy as it looks, writes Doug Coutts
Summer essay: A trip of a lifetime now means the world to Katie Chapman.
As far as summer jobs go, playing in a band was a doozy. But shrieking horns and confused percussion aren't for all.
Growing up is usually a gradual process. For Alistair Hughes it finally seemed to happen over a single summer.
Inbreds, bears and eternal sunlight - rural Smithers, Canada was a long way from home in Wellington.
Naked girls on the beach, sweltering heat and some pretty dodgy telesales jobs - Canada was not short on adventure.
It was love at first sight when Kevin Norquay saw Waihi Beach. And could have been the perfect summer romance.
A headless camp ghost would turn anyone into a serious cry baby, says Bill O'Byrne . And he'd know.