Keen to explore, Dad scrambled up the side of the gully and rock-climbed up a ledge. There he splayed himself like a huntsman spider flattened to the vertical surface, his bald head switching every which way for the next hand or foot hold. ‘If we could just get over this cliff,’ he yelled.
Read more "T-Team Series–Kings Canyon"She peered through the hoary window, into the dazzling light, searching. Herr Boris Roach had assured them they had reached the Promised Land—Australia. Now that they were here, settled, and with questions…he turned cruel; more like the rulers they’d fled than the friendly man he’d been. Questions? Herr Boris Roach forbade questions.
Read more "The Lost World of the Wends–Potato Wars"More exploration of the Historic Precinct where Mum walked us through her childhood. First, her old home and the porch converted into a bedroom in which she slept. Now, the home is “renovated” into an art gallery. Her room fetches up to something like one thousand dollars a night for an authentic experience of yesteryear’s accommodation. To think, I did that for virtually free in the 1970’s…not her room, but…
Read more "All On a Sunday (3)"She heard footsteps near the whitewashed walls of the church. She followed the footsteps and the yellow hair that shimmered in the moonless night. ‘Adam, this is not funny. Come back now!’
No answer.
‘I wonder why the horses do that?’ I remarked while driving Mum’s hire car.
No one in the car could explain.
Five hundred metres up the esplanade, just when I reached the hotel, Kirk opened his eyes and groaned. ‘Whaddya doin’? Where you takin’ me?’
‘Home.’
‘Don’ wanna go home. Wanna partee!’
Anthony narrowed his eyes and growled, ‘We’re not making a fire.’
‘Okay.’
I approached my nephew who squatted by a campfire which he had lit. ‘We’re not making a fire,’ I said and then dumped my wood collection into the fire. ‘We’re not having a fire?’
My nephew laughed. ‘I was just playing with my stick and it broke and went in the fire.’
‘And my pieces of wood just fell into the fire,’ I added.
Mrs. Cowper emerged on the scene again. I ducked behind Gunter again. People do strange and inexplicable acts in panic. Not that I can judge. As Gunter turned and said, ‘I will be fine, it would be better for you to go now’, a thunderous crack reverberated through the mass of bodies gathered under the pergola.
‘Got ‘em! I did. Ha! Ha! I “blattered” ‘em good!’ A large man proclaimed amidst the splattered wreckage of cream, stiffened egg white and meat pieces.
I knew this wind meant business, dangerous business. I rushed to Dad and told him the whole story—the wind, the sparks, the wild fire, and my little blue bowl.
‘What campfire?’ Dad smacked his lips, yawned and turned over.
Nick Cowper took another swig of beer from his “stubbie”. ‘Yep. Holly won’t be giving us any more trouble.’ Nodding out to sea Mr Cowper remarked slipping into a Londoner accent, ‘She’ll keep. Nice bit of spice. If you know what I mean Jorg.’ Mr. Cowper nudged Gunter while Gunter focussed on the clouds-tinged pink from the setting sun. ‘Reason I didn’t quite make it to Ebor, wot wif ‘elping the constabulary arrest ‘er and put ‘er away. Don’t worry, we ‘ave enough evidence, wot wif ‘er gettin’ into ‘unter’s car ‘n all. Oooh, wot a scandal! Car that smashed in from behind, caught it all on camera and it’s making the rounds of News-tube as we speak.’
Read more "Mirror World (48)"