The Wind is Whistling Today_Century_Good Friendship Never Dies_Miracle on View of What Street.
Catalog Guide:
The Wind is Whistling Today
My phone vibrates. A picture of an owl sitting on a ladder fills my phone screen.I sit, staring at my phone. The text above it reads.-it’s minus 40 here, plus the wind chillThe image and the words completely disconnected.-cute owlI text back. I watch the three little dots bouncing, indicating that there is another text coming in.-yupI send her another video of the wind whistling in the trees.These texts are emblematic of the way I’ve learned to communicate with my mother. When I was younger, I’d talk with her and tell her stories about my day and I could tell that she wasn’t listening. I’d wat...
Century
Victor was no match for the huge machines that hurtled past, sending a shock wave that ripped through his knees, making him stagger. Thick, black smoke gagged him, stinging his eyes. The huge aftershock made the lens in his spectacles crack such had been the vibrations from the giant machines that had now receded into the horizon. He steadied himself, a pebble in the barren landscape, caught in a gloom of black and grey. As if it would still be here in a million years. He was about to wretch again, realising it was the sulphur tinged atmosphere. Steadily, he composed himself. The ruins of what...
Good Friendship Never Dies
The ravages of time affect us all. There have been lots of times when I’ve seen someone from the past and thought how old they look, and then I’ve realised that when I look in the mirror,www.onedoor.cc I look just as bad! Walking through the park I crunch on the crinkled dry leaves and think that my arms look a bit like them. High above me, hanging from a branch are new leaves, soft and supple. I just sigh. When Susan and I first met it was in Primary school. From the minute she smiled at me, warmth radiating from her face, I liked her. “Hello” she said to me in a sweet voice, “If you need to know anything ...
Miracle on View of What Street.
Hilary, aka Hilaria, had washed up and tidied the kitchen after their Christmas brunch. For a little while, she had been a short order cook, over there in View Street. View of what, she wondered, as she glanced from her window to the streetscape. He husband, Ben, was snoring in his arm chair. Their adult sprogs and significant others had all driven off to their other obligations. It was the magical spirit of Christmas. Sighing, Hilaria picked up her latest craft project. She lived somewhere in the Great Southern Land, so it was summer for Christmas in suburbia. A slow, hot afternoon, her homet...