The Sergeant_STRANGERS WHEN WE MEET_The Rotten Fruit_A Soldier, a Grave, and the Missed Bus
Catalog Guide:
The Sergeant
A body washed up on the shore. Sergeant Moyles was perplexed. None of the fishermen had heard anything about a boat in distress, or a man gone overboard.‘We can’t leave him there Sergeant or he’ll wash away again,’ said Jimmy Herlihy, the fisherman of fifty odd years who had alerted Moyles to the grim flotsam. Moyles nodded. ‘Anything of forensic value is long washed away.’Jimmy helped carry the body to the Garda stationwww.onedoor.cc. Moyles offered him a cup of tea but Jimmy said he’d have to be getting home, the dinner’ll be waiting.Moyles tried to call the station in Galway city. No signal.‘What if it w...
STRANGERS WHEN WE MEET
The man wearing a bright red T-shirt over grey pants was walking along the road that bright Sunday morning. He was handsome, tall and fair, with a receding hairline, and walked with a stoop to the left. He was in a secluded upper class residential area and there wasn’t much movement on the road or pavement that early. He had now reached a 14- floor building WINDSOR, and he looked up at it as the sun glinted off the windows .It was indeed an eye-catching structure! He walked into the compound, crossed the carpeted turf, went beyond the pots laid out in line containing flowering plants, and reac...
The Rotten Fruit
The words stared back from the ominous hard white paper in her hands. Mashika knew that her mother would say she wasn’t happy with the way she dealt with her relatives. Despite the wrong people do, you must always turn the other cheek. She had tried but she had had enough. “Are you sure that you are doing the right thing?” Mr. Okoye, her lawyer asked.“I am saving the rest of my country men from dealing with these people,” Mashika said, “they have to learn that there’s more to life than living like it is their last day in Paradise.” Mashika acknowledged the greed that each one of her relative...
A Soldier, a Grave, and the Missed Bus
“Wait!” Mel called, pumping her arms as she ran in her boots. Seeing the Greyhound bus taking off — without her on it — made her heart plummet into her stomach. She gave up the chase and stomped her foot, not unlike a five-year-old. “I’m guessing you missed the bus?” A man’s soft voice questioned. Mel turned, brushing her brown hair away from her face. A man she didn’t notice the first time was sitting under the eave of the bus stop. He had a gentle face, kind grey eyes, and an Army uniform on. He looked to be about her age — early twenties. “Yeah...you could say that,” she answered, taking...