Story Time

Carnival of Flowers 2

2018-09-29T18:09:00.001-07:00

I have been over to water my friends gardens. We both have plants like in the photo but, as yet ours have not grown to this height. Or that color. Maybe. One day. They will. Since I finished watering, clouds have covered the sun. This is a long weekend so is likely to rain. And I'm booked on a trip, which is unlikely to happen, unless more people have booked.

Carnival of Flowers

2018-09-25T17:00:00.000-07:00

I went on a bus trip to the Carnival of Flowers in Toowoomba.
A two day trip turned into four days. We were on the go all day. I took over four hundred photos. We passed through many small towns. The highway was cut in places after we passed, because of all the bush fires.
The first of the photos are from our way home. We stopped to visit the German Clock House.

Spring Bluff. You can travel up there by bus, car or train. There isn't much parking space. Our driver asked for permission to drive us up the hill but had to return to the bottom. Some people walked from the car park up the hill. A steam train came through while we were walking around to look at the flowers.

Laurel Bank Park. Dew lay on the grass, when we visited early Sunday morning. I thought we were early. Many people were there strolling around. Or seated listen to the live broadcast of a radio station. These are a few of the flowers. I'll take a short break then finish the trip. The muscles need to be exercised.

All in bloom

2018-09-12T18:42:00.001-07:00

This Pelican was in the park where we stopped to board the cruise boat. We went for a two and a half hour trip on the waterways at Noosa over a month ago. Lunch was served as we watched the scenery as we passed. A hedge has been planted since the last time our group went there.

I have never seen so many blooms on the shrub at the top. The good trim I gave it must have done some good.

I went over to water my friends plants. The sun shone with warmth. No jumper needed. The sun has been replaced with overcast sky. The chill is returning. A cup of hot coffee is needed.

Worked it out.

2018-09-01T21:09:00.000-07:00

To be able to upload this photo I had to go to my Flickr site to download a smaller size.
This is one of the many rugs I have crocheted over the past eighteen months. This was for family.

The top and bottom flowers are two of my Desert Roses. The other is an orchid. I have a few different shades of red, white and pink. Some are different shapes and sizes. The foliage is different because of what other plants crossed with the Desert Rose.

I'm happy I have sorted out the photo upload. I will be able to put up some snaps of my holiday when I return home. The trip had to be cancelled for last week because the bus driver was sick. At least, the weather should be warmer by the time we leave.

Shane's 50th Birthday trip

2016-09-17T19:54:00.000-07:00

These are some of the photos taken at the morning tea stop to help Shane celebrate his 50th Birthday. We had stopped at Mango Paradise. We had a beautiful time before we went to see the fish.

The owner breeds fish for the market. He also grows sugarcane and Mangoes. Has goats.

Trip to Red Claw farm

2016-07-26T17:46:00.001-07:00

These are photos I took when we went to visit the Red Claw farm. There are over fifty ponds where the Red Claw are breed to be sold at market. There are different sized ones. A lot are caught. Sorted. Some are then returned to grow bigger. The others are prepared for market.

We had lunch there. Tables were set up on the veranda of the home. There were about twenty-two of us. There was so much food served I didn't feel like eating when I came home. There was hot finger food. Then out came the fruit and sweets. I bought some to bring home to have another day. And a bottle of tasty sauce, which could be poured over seafood, chicken, meat, or added to dishes to add more flavor.

Oh. Bummer

2016-07-24T17:17:00.001-07:00

I heard a bump in the night. This woke me from a deep sleep.
I thought it was just a bird bumping into the side of the house so I went back to sleep. I didn't hear any talking. Or any other noises. No car.

I just went out the front to collect my mail.

Oh. What a shock?

My hose and reel is missing. The place where it has been sitting for years is empty. The thief unscrewed the short piece of hose from the reel and walked off with their prize.

The neighborhood has gone to the pack of late.

A few weeks ago a lot of damage was committed over one weekend. Paint stolen from the painter up the street. They brought it to my place where they up ended the three containers over my friends car parked in my driveway. Lucky. The damage was found just after it had been done. And the paint was water based. We took ages washing the paint off. Playing in with water on a cold night isn't good.

They went through peoples cars. Tried to steal another car. They pushed it out on to the street but couldn't start it.

I thought the stealing had finished but no such luck.

They will find their prize isn't what they thought. I was intending to buy a new reel and hose. The hose was old. and the reel was not working properly.

Books and photos

2015-04-26T18:02:00.001-07:00

I have finally finished three rugs to go to the lady who gives them to people in need. I had started them before the hot weather hit making it impossible to work with wool. Now the winter winds have arrived since the rain we had, I have been working on them while watching TV at night. I have another two partly done. Good to work on them in winter because they keep the legs warm while working on them.

These are what I do when I'm not writing. Or I need to take a break from work when the muscles begin to complained I've over extended my time for doing the housework, and gardening.

I write 500 word stories which go up on the ABC site. I also add photos for the picture topic.
I also go to a writing group where we learn more to do with writing.
I have written a few novels which I have self-published. I'd prefer to have a traditional publisher. And an agent. Someone who won't try to change my story line.
I can finish the ones I started a couple of years ago. I lost them all when the computer died. I finally found someone who was able to retrieve my lost work. I have to finish the one I'm working on before I do.
I have just finished on "Fighting for her soul".
This is a story about the break-up of a relationship. The woman has a car accident. While in hospital she is guarded by her spirit and an angel. They are there to stop the devil taking her soul.

This book tells of my life. What I lived through growing up. Living in a tent; caravan; shed; all before we finally got to live in a house when I was thirteen. This is written about things I remember of that time. Not written in the true memoir fashion. The book finishes when my mother dies.

This one is about a lady who is picked to help out the Gods. She is taken around the world on a flying horse. She helps families in need. Helps the sick and poor. She tries to bring peace to the world. This was not written with any dislike for one religion over another. Churches are just buildings. My way of thinking does not enter into the story. The idea was given to me while I slept. I just followed the ideas.

As the title suggests. This story is about ghosts. Quiet funny in places. The woman is an author wanting to write a ghost story. She has her agent find her an old house that is suppose to be haunted. The house she moves into doesn't look like a place where a ghost would stay. Too clean. Not falling down. She soon finds out there are more there than she can handle. The family of them begin to take over her life not giving her much time to write. The story is fast moving with not much "padding".

All my stories are written that way. I don't like parts which slow down the story.

I have a few others in my files which I have had a chance to do much with because they were last. Now I have found them.

Some are written for children in mind.

I have to go find the sun. The room where my computer is is freezing. My legs are becoming chilled. Haven't had time to find out the heaters.

Night out

2015-04-12T22:38:00.000-07:00

One night on our trip to the Sunshine coast over Easter, We went to Alfie's Mooo Bar and Grill in Caloundra. A great time was had by all. The food was delicious. The service great. And we all got to talk to Alfie Langer, the man who used to play football. Us ladies received a kiss on the cheek and a hand shake on the way out. Everyone else there looked to see why we were getting so much attention. Especially most of us being over the hill. One lady said she wasn't going to wash her cheek. Ever.

Catching up.

2015-03-14T20:10:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to catch up on the work I have to do for my writing class. Have taken a spell from it to catch up on some of my blogs. I could do with a nap instead. I'm going to soldier on for a bit longer.

This term we have been working on memory stories. Some of the group are writing their family history. I've been busy trying to finish two project that are nearing the end. The last few weeks, my writing has taken a back seat. I don't have the undisturbed time to write. There are other jobs popping up to be done. I had to write my memory stories for my ABC Open topic. I did them yesterday.

Following is a piece that will go in the last chapter of one of my projects. We had to do a scene from something we were working on. So this is what I wrote.

Dennis stood at the front of the church with Finn by his side.

The priest stood on the step in front of the alter with the bible in his hands.

Stella stood at the entrance to the church. Virgin World, her attendant straightened her train ready for the journey down the aisle. Spirit declined to be a part of the wedding. She entered the church unseen to hide behind a statue to the left of where Stella was to stand.

The wedding march sounded.

Stella and Virgin World, made their way down the aisle. Unaware of trouble. Stella had eyes only for Dennis. The inside of the church grew warmer with every step Virgin World took. She sent out danger signals to Spirit. Stella turned to hand over her bouquet. Her hand hit a solid wall.

She turned to plead with Dennis but the man by her side was Kerry, her disfigured ex-finance. Beside him stood the Devil.

“You have lost.” The Devil laughed.

“No. You have,” challenged Virgin World.

“Grab your bride,” Devil told Kerry. He reached to take Stella's hand. She screamed.

The wedding guests scrambled from their seats to rush from the church.

Australia Day Trip

2015-01-27T15:21:00.000-08:00

Time has passed quick.
At the end of last year, I needed about three of me to be at all the places I needed to be.
By the time Christmas came around I was exhausted. I stayed home to catch up on rest to restore my energy for 2015. Did work for a couple of weeks, BUT, the steamy, muggy, hot, weather moved in to zap away what energy I had gained. Even too hot to sit at the computer. Not much breeze. Electrical storms with some rain. The grass is nice and green.
One problem with that. The grass is growing too quick so has to be mowed. Either too hot or wet. So have to chose the right time to attack the grass.

Have been busy working on a novel I started around the middle of 2014. Nearly to the end.

I also pull up one I started...not sure when...to edit and work to finish it.

I had an interview to do with my writing of 500 word stories for the ABC. This was played on the radio a few days later. The voice does change when you are recording. Didn't realize I was the one speaking.
Bottom two photos were taken at the Toad Race.

90th Birthday Party.

2014-08-09T19:12:00.000-07:00

Bernice turned 90 years old at the beginning of August. Her family put on a small party for her inviting some family, and friends. Some friends who travel on the same bus trips with her. And past bus drivers, who had taken her on trips.

Here are some of the photo I took.

The three in this photo all have their birthday on the same date - mother, daughter, and grandson. That is why there are two cakes.

Winter Fingers

2014-07-07T19:10:00.002-07:00

These are two rugs which I finished recently. The wool was passed on to me from those people not wanting to use it. Each one has been give to a lady who passes them on to people who are in need. I hurried up to finish them while the weather was cool enough to work with such weight on the lap, and not be hot. I had slowed down during the summer months. Now, with the colder months, the writing has slowed because the house is like a freezer. But I have completed the two rugs. I have another one on the go. I am trying to catch up with bits of writing while I have a couple of days of peace. I also seem to have more non interrupted time since I have added my phone number to the "No More Calls" list.

This story is another one I have written for ABC Open.

Winter Fingers

I shivered throughout the night.

The quick change in the weather from hot, to chilly, had all the muscles crying with pain.

In the early hours of the morning, I slipped, shivering, from my cold bed in the search of blankets.

Rivulets of Arctic fire shot up my legs from my feet, when they encountered the wooden, polished

floor.

In the darkness, I opened the cupboard door to grab what felt like blankets, then rushed back to my

bedroom. I shook out each one to dump on the bed before climbing in to try to build some warmth.

Didn't happen.

The chill had settled into my bones.

My feet were like icebergs.

I was still trying to warm my body when my uncle rang.

“I use a thermal blanket,” was his reply, to my complaints. “I only need the one.”

“Yeah,” I thought, remembering where he lived. And the air-conditioner he used to warm his room

before going to bed.

Thermal. The word rang bells.

I had one of those. Somewhere.

I had no intentions of spending another frosty, sleepless night.

I stripped the bed.

After four loads of washing I began my search. Downstairs.

I pulled a striped bag from a wardrobe. Placing it on the bed I zipped it open.

Surprise. Surprise.

No. not the thermal. New blankets still in the package. Never been used.

My triumph faded when I read the size. Queen. Double, I needed.

Not to be beaten. I carried the three packets upstairs.

The mattress had to be turned. With aching fingers I struggled to lift the mattress. Walked it across the base before lowing it to the base.

I set to build my cocoon.

Blanket.

Sheets.

Three new blankets.

New comforter with matching pillowcases.

The over used, shrunk blankets were packed in bags ready to be recycled.

Exhausted. I slipped between the sheets after a warm shower.

Shivering, I couldn't hold the book to read, I cast it aside. Switched off the lamp.

Pulled up the blankets to my ears.

Oh.

What a wondrous haven?

Within minutes I was as warm as freshly toasted bread.

The rising of the sun woke my from a deep sleep. The sheets were hardly rumpled because I hadn't

moved much in my sleep. I put my arm out from the warmth to the cool morning air.

Groaned.

Shivered.

Whipped the covers back into place then went back to sleep.

I'm waiting to see if the fingers of winter that seep through the walls will penetrate the wall of

warmth I have built. With the large blankets reaching the floor, I hope they can't.

Once started on my search I kept going, cleaning, eventually, finding the thermal blankets.

Two weeks of turning out hiding places.

Dusting and moping.

With aching muscles I finished by polishing the stair railings.

The job is completed.

Until I decided to search for another hidden treasure.

Phew!!! Nearly lost the story. I pushed the wrong button. But I found the right one to return it to my file.

Desert Roses

2014-04-07T21:55:00.001-07:00

I have changed to growing Desert Roses. (Photo above)
In the past. I liked to grow Cactus.
Due to a disease which go to them I lost all but one. Its just hanging on for dear life. The plant rotted after being covered by some mildew type of fungus.

Now. I'm having fun finding different colours in Desert Roses. I have been collecting them when I have been visiting markets. But there are only some many different colours.

For some reason. I went searching for different colours on the net. Well. Not at first. I searched for another plant I had been trying to find. Searching I found all these different Desert Rose plants. More seeds then plants.

The packets of seeds are arriving. And I'm busy germinating. All have sprouted plants. I just have to wait to see if they flower is the same as the picture I liked.

The above photos are of different stages of the germinating process I have been using.
Once I planted seeds but receive nothing for my trouble. Planting in the soil didn't work. Or I'd been given the wrong seeds.

Then the next time I tried. I had success. I filled a flat plastic container with potting mix. Made a shallow gutter in the middle. About the depth of the first knuckle of my finger. I laid the opening pod face up in the gutter then scraped a little of the potting mix over the top.

What a success. I ended up with over 40 seedlings.

Then. Not wanting to waste money buying seedlings. I decided not to place them in soil. I had read up on different ways to germinate the seed. I put all that together to come up with my own version. I placed water in trays I'd placed on the bench. Sat cotton wool balls in the water. Then I placed a seed on each one.

Surprise. Surprise. Within a few days. The shouts were coming out of the shell. Once they were big enough I planed them into small pots. I have another two trays set waiting. And watching. For the shouts to appear. I've had a 100 percent strike rate so far.

I just have to wait for them to grow to produce the first flower.

Chili Thief

2014-04-05T23:04:00.000-07:00

Ah! Caught you.

My Bird's Eye Chili kept disappearing. Not that I use too many.

I knew there was some bird taking them but I could never take a photo of it. I looked out the window one morning and there it was perched in the bush eating the chili whole.

I quickly rushed to the kitchen to grab my camera. Without out making too much noise to alert it to what I intended to do. I set the camera for distance. Pulled back the curtain. Aimed the lens through the security screen design to focus on the bird. I snapped a couple before it flew away.

Its stomach must have been on fire. Or by swallowing the chili whole the heat didn't affect the stomach.

Dead. Or Alive.

2014-03-07T16:53:00.001-08:00

Hasham Croyden closed his office early to go home to his wife, Stella.

Stella doesn’t like storms. The approaching storm promised to be wild,

windy, and wet. Accompanied by a striking lightning show with booming

thunder. The rain pelted down on Hasham soaking his clothes on his race to

his car. He wanted to reach home before the full force of the storm reached

their home. Hasham didn’t want Stella fear of storms to bring on an early

labor.

The power of the storm built every minute Hasham sat stuck in traffic.

He tried to take different streets to escape the gridlock. No matter how many

turns he took movement crawled at a snail’s pace. Facing a few close shaves.

Many blaring car horns at his reckless he took. Hasham fought his way to

the city limits where the traffic thinned out. Though the traffic had thinned

the rain pelted down clouding his vision of the road ahead. The curving

mountain road which has many sharp bends. Sheer sides down to the valley

Below. Trees, and boulders, littered the progress of the car if you were lucky.

Or the car didn’t explode on impact.

Trying to avoid not seeing the edge of the road, Hasham kept to the

middle of the sealed section. Half way up the mountain, on a sharp bend, a

car with high beam lights, came out of the darkness straight for him. The

driver of the car drove at speed unsuitable for the weather conditions.

Hasham pulled hard to the left on the steering wheel to avoid a collision.

Slammed his foot on to the brake. Too late. The wheels had no traction. His

car had become airborne. The bump from the other car sent his car over the

edge to crash down through the trees. And over boulders.

The driver of the other car swerved to miss Hasham’s car. Skidding om

the wet road. The back end clipped Hasham’s car bumping it over the side of

the mountain. He tried to correct the slide of the car. Over correction had the

car colliding into the side of the steep cutting flipping the car to roll over a

few times before finally coming to rest in the middle of the road.

Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed over the deadly scene.

A truck crawling up the incline had a chance to brake before he smashed

into the upturned car in the dark. Only for the flash of lightning, the truck

driver wouldn’t have seen the car. Quickly, applying the trucks caution

lights.

He sent out a call over the radio warning of the accident. Stepping down

from the cab, after retrieving his flashlight, the driver rushed to the up turned

car to search for the driver. Hearing moaning from the car, the trucker faced

the torch to shine through the broken windscreen. The car driver hung in his

seat-belt.

“Are you, okay, mate,” asked the truck driver of the man struggling to

release his seat-belt.

“Let me out of here,” came the slurred voice of the man. “I don’t want to

die.”

“Were there any other cars involved in the accident?”

“I’m not sure. Two flashes. Lightning. Blinded.”

The truck driver backed away from the car. “Don’t leave me here.”

Keeping on walking, he shone the flashlight around. Making his way across

to the edge of the road, he found where Hasham’s car went crashing down

the side of the mountain. Focusing through the rain into the darkness, he

Finally found what looked like a headlight of a car.

Sirens were approaching. Eerily flashing lights slowly made their way up

the mountain. The thunder. And lightning moved further to the west leaving

behind a misty rain. Emergency vehicles made their way around the truck,

and car, to reach the curve. They needed to block the road to stop other

traffic bursting on to the accident scene.

“Only one car,” asked the leader of the emergency services.

“No. There’s another car over the side.” He showed where the car went

over the side.

Portable lights were set up to light the accident scene. Paramedics worked

to free the driver of the first car. Besides a few cuts from flying glass, and

bruising. He didn’t have any life threatening injuries. But. Alcohol. How

much had he consumed before getting behind the wheel of his car?

Rescuers slowly abseiled down to where Hasham’s car had come to rest.

The first person on scene checked Hasham over. Didn’t find a pulse. On

being retrieved. The paramedics didn’t find any sign of life. Declared dead.

His body placed in a bag to be delivered to the morgue.

The police went to the home of Hasham to notify Stella her husband had

died in the accident. Shock from the news. And the terror she had been

through with the fear of storms. She went into immediate labor. Crumpling

to the floor. Unconscious.

A call was made for an ambulance to be sent to the home of Hasham

Croyden. Unconscious woman possibly in labor.

By the time the paramedics arrived the head of the baby had crowned. A

baby girl born a few minutes later. The mother opened her eyes to find her

entrance hall packed with people.

“What happened?” Stella turned her head to the right at the wail of her

baby. Her hands automatically went to her stomach.

“You have a beautiful daughter,” one paramedic told her.

“Why, now? She should have been a son. A son who looked like my-”

she sniffed. “He’s dead. Isn’t he? I remember being told.”

“Yes,” said the policewoman who’d been standing near the doorway.

“We need someone to identify the body. Do you have a relative willing to do

this for you?”

“I’ll do it. Where did they take him?”

“Once you’ve been settled...”

“No. I want to see him on the way to the hospital to show him his

daughter. Or I won’t budge.”

Stella and her baby, were loaded into the ambulance for the journey to

the hospital. The police led the way down the mountain past the area where

the accident had happened. People still worked to clear the area.

Arriving in town, the police, and paramedics went with her to the morgue.

She had to ride there in a wheelchair. One of the paramedics carried the

baby. They were all led into the room where the body bag waited to be

opened. The zip was slide down enough to open for her to see Hasham.

The baby wailed.

A deep suction of air echoed around the quiet room.

Hasham opened his eyes. Sat up. “Where am I?”

Stella screamed. Her head flopped back against the chair. Now out for

the count. again.

One paramedic rushed over to Hasham. He checked his pulse.

“What’s going on here?” Hasham looked at all the shocked faces.

“Are you Hasham Croyden,” asked the policewoman. Hasham nodded.

“You were in a car accident. You were declared dead at the scene. You were

brought to the morgue.”

Confused. Hasham shook his head. “Who thought up this joke?”

“No joke, sir. You can read all about this in tomorrows newspaper. The

driver who hit you will be pleased you are alive. He won’t be facing a

manslaughter charge.” The baby wailed once again. “While you have been

out of circulation. Your wife gave birth to a baby girl. Congratulations.”

“Time to deliver this family upstairs to a warm, comfortable bed,” said

the paramedic with the baby. Another wheelchair arrived to take them all to

emergency to be checked over.

------------------------------------------

I received an e-mail from someone suggesting the topic of a person declared dead at the scene but later returned to life. This is the way I set up the story.

If you want to follow my stories on ABC just use the link.

https://open.abc.net.au/projects/500-words-personal-challenge-56xt3jr/contributions/don-t-look-down-03ed0ei

This is a 500 word story I did on the fear of heights. There are a few other stories on different topics. New ones are put up each month. Have to do my one for March. Yet.

Forgive and Forget

2013-10-13T01:05:00.000-07:00

Lady Siron Roberts drove her Bentley to her reserved parking bay.

Another car stood in her place.

She couldn't believe someone had the nerve to park their rattle-trap. Piece of junk. In her parking place. Furious. With the unknown upstart who dared to take the park of Lady Siron Roberts. She skidded the car tyres on the loose gravel. Sped down the row nearly colliding with another car. She swung into an empty parking bay.

She slammed the car door. Marched down the row to where she usually parked. She was shocked to find her name had been taken from the wall. The sign had been replaced with the name of another. Her temper rose another notch. She managed to keep it under control.

“Morning. Elizabeth.” Lady Roberts forced a smile. While she spoke to a friend. A co-worker.

“Humph.” Elizabeth walked away. She had looked at her like she had turned into a bag lady who had never washed. Not a wealthy lady who had respect of her peers.

Other friends. Co-workers. Whispered to each other when Lady Roberts walked into the building. They stopped. Stared at her with revolution then quickly moved on before they were contaminated with her crime. They knew of the charges of her crime she'd be facing when she walk into the conference room. Someone had accused her of these misdemeanour.

“Morning. Helen,” she greeted one woman who came to stop near Siron. Not a smile cracked on her face. Or a greeting. “How are you this lovely morning,” came out from behind clenched teeth. She didn't want to demand why she was being treated like she had the plague.

“Madam Chairperson would like you to see her in the conference room. Straight away,” Helen emphasised, then turned to lead the way to the room.

“Is there a problem?” Siron increased her usually dainty steps to keep astride with Helen.

“I'm only the messenger. I drew the short straw.” Helen opened the door. Led the way into the room, not affording Lady Siron Roberts her proper due being a Lady.

All eyes present stared at Siron. Some unwelcome. Not a friendly face to be found. In a short span of time, she had become the enemy.

“Morning. Ladies. What has happened around here this morning. There have been some changes since, yesterday.”

“The Crown of Empress Veron has been removed from the showcase. I have notified the police about the disappearance. They want to ask you a few questions,” Madam Chairperson announced in her stern voice.

“Why me. I didn't know the crown was missing.”

“Everyone else have accounted for their movements. You were seen near the display case admiring the crown for a long time, yesterday.”

“I glanced at the crown in passing. I tried to imagine how anyone was able to keep the monstrosity on their head. I didn't take it.” Siron was mortified she had been accused of the crime she had not committed.

“It has been brought to our attention you were seen taking the crown from the building,” Madam Chairperson told Siron. “Because of this theft. You are no longer welcome in this museum. Hand over your badge.” Her wrinkled, bejewelled hand, she held it out for the badge to placed in it.

Siron smiled. She unclipped the badge. She let it slip from her fingers to the floor where she stepped on it with her shoe. Crushed it to pieced. Rubbed it into the carpet. She turned then went to storm out of the room. She opened the door to find two police officers were standing waiting for her. They took her away.

At the police station Siron had to go through the indignity of being searched. Questioned. Fingerprinted. Photographed to have her picture placed in their files. The police obtained a warrant to search her home, and car, for the stolen property, while she was held at the police station.

No matter how long the police badgered her with questions. Siron sat with a secret smile on her face. “I don't have the crown. I didn't take it.”

“But you know who did, don't you,” one of the officers finally surmised. “Why don't you tell us what you know?”

“I. Did not. See. The crown being stolen. I don't know where it is,” she persisted with a tough stand in the face of adversity.

“You can go home if you tell us what you know.”

“I hope you left my daughter's room the way you found it. She knows if any of her mess has been disturbed.” She slowly rose from her chair with much dignity she was able to muster to stroll toward the door.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“To do your job of finding the real thief.” She still held her smile in place. She quietly closed the door.

Lady Roberts was enthroned in her lounge room when her daughter arrived home bubbling over with happiness.

“Look at the beautiful necklace Danny gave me.” Jessica held the necklace away from her body for her mother to see. She didn't see the savage look in her mother's eyes before the necklace was grabbed. The delicate chain snapped from the force her mother used to remove it from around her neck.

“Ouch.” Jessica cried at the pain the pulled chain had caused before it broke. “What did you do that for. Give me back my necklace.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was disappointed with her mother's reaction. Jessica made a grab for the hand from which the necklace dangled.

Lady Roberts snatched back her arm. Rolled her arm over like bowling a cricket ball. She sent the offending necklace sail through the air to have it land out of sight.

“I hate, you,” cried Jessica. She unsuccessfully searched for her treasure.

“You can hate me all you like. My girl. You are to have nothing to do with Danny. I forbid you to go near him ever, again.”

“You never did like Danny. You're a snob. You don't Like Danny because his family isn't rich. I'm going to live with Danny, if he'll let me. He appreciates me. He loves me. You don't love anyone but yourself.”

“At least I'm not a criminal. Even though. I've been treated like one all day. It isn't fun being hauled down to the police station to be fingerprinted. Have a mug shot taken. Have my body searched. And treated like a leper because someone had accused me of a crime I didn't commit.”

“What are you rabbiting on about. Why were you at the police station. It's a wonder you know there are such things outside your silver cloud.”

“I was dragged into a police car. I spent hours being. Grilled. I think the word is. You want to know why.” Jessica stared at her mother like she had never seen her before. “I'll tell you. Your wonderful Danny's mother. Has accused me. Me of all people. Of stealing a valuable crown from the museum. Is that how Danny can afford to buy you such a valuable gift?”

“You have a nasty mind. Why would his mother steal the crown. She earns money by working.”

“Dealing in stolen goods. Selling them on the black market?”

“I hate you,” echoed through the house when Jessica ran from the house to go to find Danny. Jessica was unaware she was being followed. She hadn't believed the story her mother had told her. Danny's mother was a thief.

She raced all the way to the home of Danny. Te trip took longer than usual because she kept running into objects. Blinded by the tears streaming down her face.

Jessica banged on the front door. She kept banging until the door was answered by his mother. “Hello.”

“Where's Danny,” Jessica shouted, not wanting to speak to his mother.

“He's in.”

“Danny. Danny,” Jessica yelled. She pushed her way past his mother to find him.

Danny came rushing from his room to find Jessica running toward him. “What happened?” She rushed into his arms. “Where's your necklace? Did you lose it?”

“Mother took it. Threw it away.” Jessica lifter her head to look at his mother. “Maybe you should ask your mother why?”

“My mother. Why would my mother know?” He looked from Jessica to his mother. “Would one of you tell me what's going on.”

“How would I know?” The defiant look said his mother wouldn't talk.

Danny looked at Jessica for her to answer.

“I gather your mother is responsible for the police dragging my mother down to the police station”

Shock showed on his face. “What? What was the charge?”

“Theft. Some silly crown is missing from the museum.”

Danny looked at his mother with disgust. Disappointment. He shook his head. “How could you? You promised you wouldn't steal, again. So you fooled the doctors, once again. I'm ashamed to call you. Mother.”

“I didn't do it.”

“You say that every time. Promised me you'd never do it again. What else have you taken no one has missed. Yet.”

She made me do it. The snobbish. Bitch. She thinks she is better than me. I'm dog poo beneath her shoes. Now. She the dog poo. Let her suffer the indignity of having a police record.” Her temper rose with every word she spoke. She was ready to explode into action.

“I think you've said enough,” said the officer, who stepped through the open doorway. He was fol lowered by two others. “Cuff her.” She fought. Struggled. In the end she was cuffed ready to be taken away.

“Sorry about this, son. Would you have any idea where she might stash her booty?”

“You're welcome to search. I know the drill.” The officer shook his head at the defeated look on the boy's face. 'We'll go wait in the kitchen.”

The crown. And other pieces. Were found, finally. Bagged ready to be taken to the police station. Different pieces were spread throughout the house.

“We may have to return for another search if more pieces are found to be missing.”

“Take the key. I might not be here. She's had her last chance.”

“Where will you stay?”

“Don't know, yet. My first place to go will be to apologise to Lady Roberts for my mother's behaviour.”

Danny. And Jessica. Made their way to her home. They both had planned an apology to Lady Roberts. Holding hands. Jessica opened the door to her home. They walked into the lounge room to find Lady Siron Roberts enthroned on the couch with a glass in her hand sipping a drink.

“So you have chosen to return home. Are you here to stay?” She stared at Jessica.

“Lady Roberts. I've come to apologise for what my mother has done to you. She has been arrested. This wasn't her first time.”

“I'm sorry I didn't believe you, mother. I don't hate you. I was upset.”

Lady Roberts placed her drink on the coffee table. Stood. Walked out of the lounge room without saying another word. Jessica. And Danny. Stared at the retreating back. Moments later Lady Roberts returned with the vacuum cleaner. “I suppose we had better search for the necklace. Them make a room ready for Danny to sleep in.” The phone rang while Danny plugged in the socket. Jessica went to answer the phone.

“Mum. You are wanted on the phone.” Jessica put down the receiver. She went to help search for the necklace.

“Siron picked up the receiver. “Hello,” she said, thinking a reporter may have heard of her arrest.

There was a moment of silence before the caller spoke. “Siron,” spoke Helen, not wanting to make the call. “Madam Chairperson.”

“Helen,” Siron butted in before Helen had time to finish her spiral. “You can tell Madam Chairperson to take her gracious offer and shove it.”

“Mother,” said a shocked Jessica, hearing what her mother had to say.

“I'll no longer be supporting the museum with my donations. I have a more rewarding project in mind.” Lady Roberts slammed down the receiver.

After a long search the necklace was found. Together. Lady Roberts. Jessica. And Danny cleaned away the dishes then sat at the table to repair the necklace. Restore the faith in each other.

Three Different Views

2013-10-13T00:57:00.001-07:00

Different Views.

We were given a topic, with characters. We had to write it in three different ways. The way of the man, woman, and child. First I started with the Man.

Man.

Jason sat in the lazy boy chair reading the evening paper. His smelly pipe sending up curls of smoke toward the ceiling.

The smell of the smoke made Helen's stomach churn. Turn sour. She gagged. She rose from her chair to race toward the bath room. Sounds of Helen being sick reached Jason in the lounge room.

He made his way to the bathroom. Knocked on the door. “Are you, okay, dear. What did you eat to make you sick. Do you need me to ring the doctor?” Jason heard Helen mumble. He didn't catch all the words. “What did you say, dear?”

The door jerked open. A pasty face Helen came out of the bathroom. “I've been to the doctor,” she said, on her way back to the lounge room..

“What did the doctor say was wrong,” he asked, following in her wake.

“I'm pregnant,” shouted Helen. “You should be pleased.”

“I think you had better find another doctor. You doctor is a quack.” Jason looked closely at his wife for her reaction. “There's no possible way you can be pregnant.”

“Have you become a doctor. He took all the tests. The results were all positive.” Helen looked at her husband with suspicion. The look told her to tread wearily because her husband knew something she didn't. “How can you be certain you didn't make a mistake.”

A nasty smile curled up each side of his lips to show his temper had risen. He folded the paper to gently place on the table beside the chair. The pipe he bumped into the ash tray to empty the bowl. Jason glared at his wife while he pocketed the pipe.

“I'm one hundred percent certain the child can't be mine. You want a child so Ilet you adopt Cheryl. You wanted this marriage even though you knew I loved another. So who is the father. Do I know him?”

“You're the father. Why are you in denial?”

“Sorry. Helen. You have the wrong man. I won't accept another man's child to have my name. Falsely.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because I had a vasectomy.” He ignores the shocked gasp from his wife. “Before we were married.”

“You did what?” Helen couldn't believe her husband was so cruel.

“You taught me well. My unfaithful wife.” Jason turned to leave the room. “You had better find the right father. If you can. Hope he will be able to support you. You are finished in this house.” Jason whistled a happy tune when he walked from the house.

Woman

Helen had hoped for years to have a baby of her own. Even though, she loved her adopted daughter, she still craved to have her husband's child. Or a child her husband thought was his. In all the years they had been married they were no closer than the day they were married. Emotionally. She had prayed Jason would have learned to love her. But. There was a wall around his heart ans he didn't let her in.

Time was passing for Helen. She had to do something quick before the window of opportunity had passed her by. She'd soon be too old to have a chance to conceive.

While Jason was away on a business trip Helen began to put her plan into action. She has made plans to be impregnated at the IVF clinic. She had book for the day after Jason had left on his trip. She prayed there would be no complications for him to cancel his plans to leave. Helen had even sussed out the person to help her with her plan. But. As yet. He didn't know he'd been vetted to fulfil her scheming plan.

By the time Jason had returned from his extended business trip, Helen had passed her first trimester in her pregnancy. She was very pleased with herself. She had the scan. The scan showed she was having twins. Helen expected Jason would be excited to know he'd finally be a real father. But. Her hopes were dashed. He didn't even comment of the fact she was pregnant.

“Haven't you anything to say?” Helen looked at Jason, to watch for signs of reaction to the news. “Aren't you even pleased we are going to have our own baby?”

“You look like you've put on a bit of weight from all the parties you've been going to while I've been away.” Jason turned from Helen to go up the steps.

“Aren't you happy we are going to have a baby. We've been trying for years.”

“I haven't been trying. You have been doing all the hoping. And wishing. I haven't. Your condition has nothing to do with me.”

“But this is our baby. Babies to be exact. We're to be the parents of twins.”

“That'll keep you busy for years. There goes your party life style.” Jason hurried up the stairs to the master bedroom before he told her what her thought of her scheming.

Helen waited in the lounge room for Jason to return. He didn't come back down the stairs.

“Mum. What's wrong with, dad,” Cheryl asked, when she found her mother in the lounge room.

“Probably shocked to hear he's going to be a father. He'll come around once he becomes used to the idea.”

Cheryl shook her head. “I don't think so.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Dad's not a happy chap. He's mad like a wild hornet.”

“Why do you say that,” asked her mother, puzzled by Cheryl's words.

“Dad is moving his clothes into the suit at the end of the passage.”

“He wouldn't.” Helen couldn't believe Jason would do such a thing.

“You go and have a look if you don't believe me. I wouldn't stand in his way.” Cheryl advised her mother. “He'll trample over you and keep moving. I think I'll go out for awhile until he cools down.” Cheryl left the house not wanting to be there when the storm hit.

Helen went up the stairs to see what Jason was doing. She was surprised to see her daughter had been right. Jason was busy moving his belongings to the suit.

“Why are you moving your clothes?”

“You have the use of the bedroom until the babies are born. In the meantime, I'll look around for somewhere you can move to.”

“I'm not moving, anywhere. We'll have children to raise. Your children What will people say if you throw me out?”

“You deserved what you received.”

Helen deluded herself thing would change but the gap grew wider. She prayed Jason would change his mind when the babies were born. The battle had been lost years ago when Helen had struck a deal with the devil.

Jason had everything in place for the day the babies were born. He had test done before the babies arrived.. More tests were taken the day the babies were born.

“The girl is yours to keep,” Jason told Helen “The boy is mine. You will go to your new home from here. We are finished. Your scheming day are over. 'Bye, Helen.”

“But. Why. You can't,” spluttered Helen.

Jason stopped at the doorway. “I know all about your last scheme.” Jason walked away. Out of her life. He'd taken with him his son. He'd paid for the treatment she had taken to have the babies. So by rights. One half of the pair belonged to him.

Girl

Helen, and Jason, were seated in the lounge room. Jason smoking his pipe like usual while reading the newspaper. Helen sat knitting baby clothes. Or was attempting to make something for the babies. She wasn't very successful.

Jason ignored her.

Or he answered in monosyllables.

Cheryl walked to the lounge room door. She had, finally, picked up enough courage to conquer the mountain her parents had built between them. Her family had never been a close, loving affair. They tolerated each other for appearances sake. Now. Jason didn't try. He blocked every advance his wife made to put the marriage on an even keel.

Taking a deep breath to fortify her courage. Cheryl marched into the lounge room to stand near her squabbling parents. “Would you two mind keeping the noise level, down. I can't hear myself think.”

Two pairs of eyes swung in her direction. The looks she received told her they believed she had flipped her lid.

“I can still hear the noise. What are you two doing?” Neither of her parents spoke. They waited to see what happened next. Cheryl rubbed her stomach. “Ah. Gee. It's my stomach. It's making the most of noise I've heard in weeks. This house is worse than the library. Even the vermin are complaining. They're not game to move from their hiding place.”

“What are you on this week. Cheryl,” her mother sniffed the air for any telling signs.

“Sniffing won't help. Mum.” Cheryl advised her mother. “Not with dad burning manure. The smell would drown out anything I might have used.”

“You had better mind your manners, my girl.” She had, finally, received verbal attention from her father. “You're not to big to be put across my knee to receive a spanking.”

“Hooray.” Cheryl cheered. “You both can still. Talk. I thought the both of you had lost the power of speech. Now. I've solved one problem. Maybe you can explain the silent. Cold shoulder treatment. You had been dealing out around here.”

“Are you trying to be a smart ass. Cheryl.” Her mother not pleased with her daughter's straight talking.

“While we are speaking. Will someone tell me why this family has derailed. Before you tell me a pack of lies. Or half truths. I'll know which is which. I've been doing some research into the background.”

“You've what?” She now had the attention of both of her parents. Each praying Cheryl hadn't pried too deep.

“There's nothing to find,” said Helen.

“Wrong.”

“This was an arranged marriage. I didn't want it,” replied Jason.

“Hooray. Some truth.”

“We loved each other,” claimed Helen.

“What rubbish. I was forced to bend to the will of my family,” Jason counter claimed, sending dagger looks at his wife.

Cheryl reached into her coat pocket to produce a few sheets of paper. “Would you like me to tell you both about this, so called, family. It's very interesting reading. Dad seems to have the cleaner slate. So we'll begin with him.”

Cheryl explained how her father had been in love with someone else. He has some of his sperm saved before he had a vasectomy.

Mum had used family pressure to be married to dad. You found out what dad had done. Savage at him. You bribed someone for some of the sperm to mix with your eggs. But. They were impregnated into another woman. You paid for her services so you were able to adopt me. The same idea has been used for you to become pregnant. You have also had a sleazy affair in the event the other didn't work.

“So. I'm really your daughter. I don't have to look for the people who gave me up for adoption. The rest is interesting reading. There's a copy for each of you.” Cheryl placed the papers on the coffee table between her parents. “I'll return home in a day. Or two. To find out if the house still stands.” She walked out of the lounge room before the explosions began.

Truth Hurts

2013-10-13T00:50:00.005-07:00

An ugly witch named Arlia wanted to marry a handsome prince. She had her heart set on Prince Ruddie. But. He wouldn't have anything to do with her. No matter. How many ways she disguised herself to attract his attention.

Ruddie's heart had been given to another. Cazna was no beauty to look at. She possess a sweet, loving personality.

Arlia became furious the day she heard the new spreading throughout the fairy kingdom. She couldn't believe he'd chosen to marry Cazna. So mad was she. She set about planning their downfall. Mixed. And stirred the brew in the pot over the fire. She ranted. Raved of her hatred for Cazna. Finally. The concoction had been brewed long enough. Arlia bottled the mixture. She waited until the day of their wedding. She poured some of the mixture into the drinks of Ruddie, and Cazna. And the guests.

Still she waited. The day arrived she knew would come. News of Cazna's pregnancy spread throughout the kingdom. Arlia clapped. She danced around the fire while she chanted. She sent her spell to Cazna, and the unborn children.

Once the babies were born they caused trouble. Buff had the look of an angel about her. Biff did everything he could to annoy her from the day they were placed in their cribs at home. And grew more naughty over the years.

The king decreed Biff and Buff, should be kept separated. Each baby was to be placed in a different room. This didn't stop the mischief. They carried on their destruction of the fairy kingdom.

By the time they were able to walk, Biff and Buff, were declared a nuisance to the kingdom. Said to be a danger to the sanity of the residents. The fairies were so confused no one knew who was telling the truth. Or lied.

Biff, and Buff, were banished from the kingdom. Soon the place returned to its once peaceful existence. They were cast off to a far off land in the hope they'd learn to control their ways. Stop causing so much trouble.

But. Over the years, Biff, and Buff, didn't change their ways. Neither did they grow up to become proper fairies like the rest of their relations. They became little imps who went their merry way tormenting everyone who came their way. The last skirmish was the end of the road for their pranks.

They had used their zaps to make two girls fight. The girls kicked. Scratched. Pushed. And punched. When their mothers arrive to find our what was happening, the mother felt the sting of the zaps. Each mother looked at the other. They parted their daughters. A look passed from one mother to the other. Each remembered a time when they had to be pulled apart. Memories of other people who had complained about being zapped before the fight broke out.

“Time to take a stand,” said one mother with a twinkle in her eye.

“Yes. About time those mischief makers are called to account,” announced the other mother, ready to put her powers to the test.

Each mother took a daughter to place them at a safe distance from the scene.

“Don't either of you move from there,” both mothers warned.

The both of them walked back to where they had felt the sting from the zaps. Both took deep breath to calm the body. With hands raised toward the forest. The mothers began to try to remove the mischief makers from their area.

“Oh, ye Spirits of the forest,

Come. Bring your magic.

Power of the trees, the strangling vines

Cast a net, tight and strong,

We beseech you, do this right,

With the help of the universal forces

Restrain Biff and Buff,

Do your work, make everything calm

Restrict their mischievous behaviour.

Caused trouble all their lie,

Incarcerate them together

Let them fight with all their might

Until they learn right from wrong.”

Both mothers waved their hands above their head. Day became night. Dark storm clouds rolled across the sky blocking out the light. Wind blew a gale through the trees sending dust, and leaves flying high into the air. Lightning struck lighting up patches in the darkness. Thunder roared covering the squeals of Biff, and Buff. The branches. And the vines. Boxed them into a confined cage. Lightning zigzagged, across the sky to strike the entangled cage casting it adrift. The gale blew the cage away from the area. The storm. And darkness. Disappeared quickly like it had arrived.

“You have done well this day,” said a loud voice, once the storm had passed. “The fairies will be pleased the spell has finally been broken.”

Both mothers looked at each other in wonder. They had only been putting on a show to try to frighten the culprits, who had been causing trouble in the area. Believing there were a couple of people carrying on the tale of some ghosts who had supposed to roam the area. Didn't realise they had caused such a display. Stunned. The two of them collapsed to the ground. The girls rushed to their mothers. Praising them for what they had done. Thinking not to upset their mothers in the future. They had supper powers.

Gran's Garden

2013-10-13T00:44:00.004-07:00

“Gran. Do you know you have a rabbit in your garden,” asked Sid

“Yes, Sid. I know. He has his own patch.” Gran smiled at the puzzled look on her grandson's face. “He doesn't touch my vegetables.”

They made their way around the garden plots. Sid began to think his gran had lost her mind.

“Gran. Who put the name signs near the plants. The signs are not in the right places. You have the cabbage sign at the spinach garden. Tomatoes where there should be sprouts.”

“I know, Sid. There is a good reason for my strange system.”

“But. Why. Gran. That doesn't make sense. Are you trying to confuse us into eating more vegetables?”

“No. Sid. Would you like a radish to eat?” Gran stood where the garden was full of large, juicy carrots.”

“But. They're not...”

“Shh. Rabbits have big ears. They have them for listening.”

“But. Rabbits can't speak English. They can't read.” Sid sighed. He couldn't believe what he was saying. Before long. He'd be joining his gran in Silly Land.

“Shh. You don't want to insult, Charlie,” Gran whispered. “Charlie is a special kind of rabbit. He can read. But. He has no sense of smell. Or taste. He loves his new brand of carrots.”

“But. Gran. Charlie isn't eating...”

“Yes. I know. Sid. But Charlie loves his new carrots. While he isn't eating my vegetables. I don't have to worry about him being here. We live in harmony. I supply him with food. Charlie leaves my vegetables alone.” Gran held out a freshly pulled carrot. “Go wash this under the tap. I'm sure you'll like my radishes.” Sid walked away shaking his head to wash the dirt from his carrot.

If Wall Could Speak

2013-10-10T02:20:00.000-07:00

Night covered the city. The stories rattles inside the hallowed walls of the room before the ghosts came out to play. To rock the walls. Thunder across the floor. Raise the roof from the walls.

Tonight. The pirates. And the fairies. Thunder across the floor in battle for the supreme prize. Some in wheelchairs. The walking wounded are led into the room came disguised like pirates, and fairies. They were all ready to rumble into the wee hours of the morning. To disappear with the coming up of the morning sun. The brilliant sun was about to climb above the horizon to bring in the dawn of a new day. The fun was over for another night.

Dedicated helpers are there to make sure none of them escape into the real world to spread their stories. Stories of drag races. Burning rubber from the wheels of their wheelchairs. Talk about the burnouts they did around the room. Coughing from the smoke formed in the closed room. Their tired, old eyes. Some seeing. Some not. Clap their hands while they barrack for their favourite members to win.

Pastor Jones with a long white gown over his jeans, His fairy wings on his back, and a wreath of flowers around his head, skidded for traction while going fast around the corner. He pushed a wheelchair with a pirate seated edging him on to go faster.

The crowd barracking for the other fairy dressed in jeans with a white tulle short skirt with a pink band around the waist. Delicate wings pinned to the back of the tee-shirt. Wreath of flowers on his head. He skated around the room with a pirate who could not see. The pirate waved his stick to tell him there were no obstacles in their way.

They were quickly catching up to Pastor Jones. Taking the next corner at speed. The pirate swung his stick in a wider arc tripping over Pastor Jones. The pastor went for a nose dive to skid across the floor. The fairy in the wheelchair crashed into the door at speed shattering the glass of the door.

Pastor Jones began to spin out of control crashing into the skating pair of fairies who crumpled to the floor. The three of them came to rest in a huddle of arms, legs, and wings, in the middle of the room. People cheered. Their roar lifting the roof from the walls. Cymbals crashed loudly as the magical music came to a rousing end. Carers rushed to help untangle the crumpled mess on the floor. Checking to see if any of them had been hurt. To rescue the pirate in the wheelchair near the door. The had to dust the broken glass from her lap.

Not often did they have an accident of such magnitude. Sirens were heard arriving outside the door. The ambulances had to take the two fairies to the hospital. The ambulance persons could be heard laughing above the sirens when they drove away with their patients.

Refreshment were offered to the worried attendees of the party before they retired to return for the next rumble.

Red Folder

2013-10-10T02:13:00.000-07:00

“I've gone and done it, now.” Emily shuddered. She tried to re-read the letter in her shaking hand. How was she to know her innocent actions would lead to so many people being caught for the crimes they had committed. Crimes of scamming people out of their hard earned money.

The document had seemed harmless enough when she passed it on to the security commission in the government. One little document having far reaching effects once the federal agents began their fierce search for the criminals involved in the operation.

“I shouldn't have done it.” Emily moaned over her actions. She wondered if the criminals already knew she had reported their criminal activities. “Yes. You should have,” said the voice in her head. “Don't be a jelly-legged ninny. Stand up. Be counted. Do the right thing for your country,” badgered the voice.

“But. What if the crooks come looking for me.” She shuddered at the thought. “I can dodge harmful words. But. Not live ammunition being shelled at me. These could be detrimental to my health. I don't want to die. Yet.”

“Here we go, again. Thinking of yourself,” complained the voice. “Think of all those people who have been suckered. Taken for a ride. You could...”

“A ride. That's what I'm afraid of. A long. Long ride. Way out into the country never to be seen again. I seafood. But. I don't want to become a fishes dinner if I'm given cement boots. And I don't like water. You know.”

“Chicken,” mocked the voice. “Why don't you go find a cosy hen house. Or a barn where you can hide in the hayloft. Think of all the creepy. Slithering snakes. Moving across the bales of hay looking for fresh meat. Or the rats scampering around looking for a place to hide. The spiders...”

“Okay. Shut up.” Emily yelled. She was fed up with the annoying voice. “Go find someone else to terrify. Someone who will appreciate you horror stories.” She shivered. All those grizzly scenes flashed through her mind. “This has to be a joke. Someone is trying to play a practical joke on me. Ha. It won't work.” She thrust the letter into the envelope. Tossed it in the nearest draw hopefully to be forgotten. But. Knowing the red folder existed of evidence was a constant reminder the federal agents were coming to knock on her door. She prayed the agents did arrive before the criminals.

Emily. Literally. Became an ostrich. She buried herself in work to forget the snowball she had set in motion. She worked until she had become exhausted. To be able to forget for a short time. When the knock, finally, came to her door danger echoed through the house. She nearly jumped out of her skin. Every creak of the old house scared her. Her nerves were would so tight she was ready to scream.

She tiptoed to the nearest window. Tweaked back the curtain to look out the window. A strange car was parked at the front of her house. Did it belong to a friend. Or a foe, dashed through her mind. Taking a deep breath to try to calm her frazzled nerves, she made her way toward the front door.

She unlocked the door. She slowly opened it enough to see the men standing on the front porch. She watched to see if they were going to make any sudden moves.

“Federal police. Are you Emily Watts?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Can I see your ID. Can't trust many people, these days.” The both of them produced their ID.

“What do you want me for. What have I done?”

“We've been given some documents you sent to the security agency of the Reserve Bank. We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay. Go around to the roller door. I'll open it for you to enter.” They looked at Emily like they believed she wouldn't open the door to let then into her home. She shook her head at the look of disbelief in their eyes. “I'm not stupid. Just cautious. And I don't have spare money to replace my door if you have to break in.” She closed. And locked the door. She made her way through the house to the kitchen. She picked up the remote from the table to open the roller door. The door slowly rose to allow the agents to enter the garage. Walk up the steps to the kitchen.

“Have a seat, Gentlemen.” Emily walked into the lounge room to collect the red folder with the evidence. “You took your time coming to collect this,” she told them, after she had placed the folder on the table.

“You were expecting us,” said a surprised agent.

“Sure. When the letter arrived to say the documents had been handed over to the federal police.”

“We may have rang. Or sent you a letter to ask what else you were able to tell us.”

“You have to be kidding.” Emily gave a jerky laugh. Relieved. She had handed over the information. “I was worried the bad guys would arrive before you. And if there is still and in house criminal in the security agency, the crooks may have been alerted to suspend their operations. Scram. Or clean up the loose ends.”

“What else do you have for us. We need to know how you came by these documents.”

Emily opened the red folder. She pulled three stacks of clipped sheets of papers. She spread them over the table. Explained what was in each heap. “This is the one you know about. Here are e-mails in my name from banks I've never heard of. This last heap shows someone has been using my e-mail to ship money from place to place. These people come by their money from credit card fraud.”

“How do you know that,” an officer looked at Emily with suspicion. Like he thought she was more involved with the scheme then she had told them.

“Computers are great for researching. You keep looking until you excess the right site to gain the information. Credit cards should come with a “Quick Sand” warning. You keep being sucked in to spending money you don't have.”

“What're you going to do about the crooks. I have spoken to one of the guys on the phone. If you need any help to catch the slime-balls I'd be willing to help. Don't want to wait for them to decide I need to be disposed of.”

“Do you watch a lot of crime shows on television?” He tried hard not to smile at her expression.

“Writers need to have an interesting, calculating imagination. You only have to watch the news to write an interesting story.” Emily waited to hear what happened next. She felt relief now the documents were being taken from her care.

“Right.” A sly smile crossed the face when he looked toward his partner. “So. You think you can think like a criminal.”

“No. I can only imagine what a criminal might do. But. My mind doesn't stretch to what most of them do. Or believe they are able to get away with without being caught. I believe those who do the crime should do the time.”

“We'll take all this back to Canberra with us. We'll try to find these people.”

“I hope you catch them all. I don't have time to do the time for something I didn't do.” There are too many family, and friends, counting on me to be around to help them Just e-mail me if you need more help. I'm sometimes hard to contact. Use the name 'Megheira' and leave a number where you can be reached.”

“Why 'Megheira'? Does it have some special meaning to you?”

“A long past relative. Hope you find the culprits.” The agents replaced the documents into the red folder. Emily walked to the garage door. Watched them walk out to their car. Once they were in the car, Emily closed the roller door.

A few weeks later, Emily was checking her e-mails when she found one she hoped never to receive. The week had been full on. She had to go out every day. Came home late to cook her meal then fall into bed. Exhausted. There had been no time to fit in any catnaps to recharge the tired, aching muscles.

Emily lifted the phone. She began to punch in the numbers she read from the computer. She waited for her call to be answered.

“Star Security. Glen speaking. How can I help you?”

“This is Magheira. I had a message to call.”

“Sorry. Those members are out on a job at the moment. I'll have them call you when they return.”

“Thank you.” Emily replaced the phone. She went to the kitchen to set about making a meal.

Emily tried to stay awake. To wait for the call. But. Tiredness over took her exhausted body. She collapsed on her bed. She slept from the moment her head touched the pillow. And closed her eyes. Deep in slumber. She took a long time to realise the phone rang. Slowly. She surfaced enough to reach out an arm to grab the phone.

“Hello,” Emily mumbled into the phone.

“This is agent Sykes. Sorry to call so late. But we've been out rounding up some crooks. We've been watching them for awhile. They are in custody. Maybe they will tell us more about the racket they have been running.”

“That's good. What about the ones in America. And England. Have they been caught?”

“We have people watching them. None of them have made any sudden moves to leave. Once they know the ones this end have been taken out of the operation there might be some action.”

“You will let me know if there are any further developments. If there is any thing I can do to assist...”

“Depends on who Kerry implicates to try to weasel her way out of trouble. We may need your help to confront James. When he hears you voice...”

“You mean by phone.”

“No. In person. We'll...”

“You know where he is operating from?”

“He's a barrister. Works for a Mister Jones who lives in England.”

“Is there a money trail. Or has it all been a hoax. Did the money reach Australia. Or have they been sending the money out?”

“That is some of the questions we will be asking.” A loud yawn was heard by Agent Sykes. “I'll go ask some of those questions while you catch up on your sleep.”

“That would be lovely.” Emily replaced the receiver. She was soon asleep.

Agent Sykes smiled. A week had passed since he had spoken to Emily. He punched in the numbers for Emily. He had a feeling he'd be dragging her from her bed. The phone rang. And rang. He began to think she wasn't at home.

“Emily,” she mumbled into the phone.

“Megheira is closed. The case is still on going though. We have...”

“Agent Sykes. I love talking to you too. But when I'm awake. Do you enjoy waking me from a. Beautiful. Dream.” Emily sighed. “I was about to...”

“Huh. I think I'm too young to hear...”

“crawl out of my comfortable bed to have a drink. You have a nasty mind, Sykes. About time you changed you job.”

“My job has just saved your butt. We pulled in the nets in each country. We have them all. We hope.”

“I hope you do. I don't want cement shoes. I would like to see a few more sunrises. Pray some fairy will deliver me a pot of gold.”

“I'm not wearing a tutu. But. You'll receive a small donation toward you pot of gold for services to your country.

“I will.” Emily sat up in her bed. “I could kiss you Sykes.”

“My wife doesn't like to share.”

“Good for her. Happy adventuring, Sykes. I might try for one of your dreams now I have some money.” Emily laughed. She replaced the phone to the spluttering from Agent Sykes.

Scaremongers

2013-10-10T02:05:00.004-07:00

Scaremongers

I dread what I'll hear each time there are news forecasts.

To hear the dire predictions the learned people of the world sprout about what will happen in the near future. If we are to take notice of every one of their forecasts of what will happen we'd all be nervous wrecks. May be that is why so many people are killing themselves. Their loved ones. Their children. They don't want then to live in such a world. A world ruled by a few. A world nothing like it used to be. These people are sent by a few who want to take control so there is one world. One voice. Theirs.

If all these things are going to happen. Why are we building more roads for traffic when there won't be any traffic. Who will be able to afford $8, or more, a litre for petrol. There will be no farmers. No food. No hospitals. No electricity. We will be back in the dark ages if this is allowed to happen. So why are we wasting money building more roads when we could be using the money for other purposes, like building houses. Canals to cope with the rising of the water. Use this water to produce more food for the people. Pipe the water in land to help the farmers who supply the food. By doing sensible things like that there would not be the threat to all the island. Or lower countries, which will go under water.

We are being conned. Held to ransom by a few who have the money. And position. To cause all the havoc the world is being exposed to. What are they going to do when there are no workers let to earn money to pay the asking price? The money they have prostituted from the workers of the world. The money won't be of any use to then because there won't be any food. Or commodities available to anyone. We will all be back in the dark ages living in caves. We won't have any clothes. Or food, if there aren't any animals around to be caught. Those agile enough to chase them would kill by spear. Or club. The weak will have to starve. The sick will have to die because there won't be any services to help. We'll be back to cooking over open fires.

Wake up to those few who are killing off mankind to line their own pockets. They do not remember those who came before them. Who had to fight. To struggle to build the world we have today. What are today's children going to do. Once their computers. Mobiles. Electricity. And a ready made source of food supply has been wiped out. What will happen then. They will not be able to cope with life like it use to be way back when. Life like we know it now will no longer exist. If these people are left to rape the world of its sources of fuel, and food, what will there be. The earth will become a desolate place with no life form in existence. Time we spoke up in one voice to condemn them for their scaremongering. Then the world may return to a peaceful place to live.

Happening In Life.

2013-10-06T23:33:00.003-07:00

Happening In Life.

Happening. My life has been full. Too numerous to pick one such incident which really stands out more than the other.

Fixing the foot valve on the windmill was a saga. But the words are hard to find to express my father's feelings at the time would be unprintable. Suffice to say the air turned blue. Tiny. The guy helping us to do the work let the pipe slip from the chain to fall to the bottom of the borehole.

We sat beneath the windmill for hours to try to lasso the pipe then winch it out of the mud. Then out of the ground piece by piece until all the pipe had been removed. The foot valve was replaced. The pipe then had to be lowered down the bore hole. Tiny wasn't allowed any where near the windmill workings until all was secured in place.

Or I could have explained the horror week after family members were injured in a car accident. My husband, His friend. Daughter. And son. They all went for a Saturday afternoon drive to return a guy to his place of work on the other side of the Sarina Range.

Worry began to set in when the sun fell beyond the horizon. Next came a phone call from the police asking a lot of questions. They had received a radio message from a truckie. He had reported an accident scene he'd come across on the top of the range.

The accident could have been worse than it was if my son didn't have the foresight to climb from the upturned car. He found a torch. He flagged down the semi which was the first vehicle to come along. Luckily, for everyone. Philip was the only one functioning to think. All he had received was a blood nose.

I took off to the accident scene after leaving a note for the rest of the family. The trip up. And down the range. I don't remember much about. I arrived a few seconds after the police. There were no people at the accident scene. The truckie, and Philip, had removed the other three from the car. Loaded them into the semi. Then he drove them to the ambulance station.

I finally, tracked them down at the local hospital. My husband suffered a fractured cheek bone. His friend had a couple of fractures of the neck. Nicole didn't look like her usual self. Her face was badly bruised, and swollen. Nicole was found to have her jaw broken in three places. A vein has ruptured in her head. She had to be flown to Brisbane for a few operations to stop the bleed. And repair her jaw. It was broken in three places. Everyone fully recovered over time.

Then I could have explained about my animals. I had moved to a small acreage to be able to have a couple of horses. That is all the animals I had intended to have. Within a matter of weeks, I had a lot of different animals. Fowls. Geese. Dog. Cats. And pigs. Between my father, and his friends, I seemed to end up with all the strays everyone wanted to give away.

But I decided to tell about the time my daughter, Leanne, was pregnant. Leanne, and her sister-in-law, were due to have their baby in the same week. They both wanted to name their baby, Mitchell. If either of them had a son. So the race was on to be the one to deliver their baby first.

On the eighteenth of October, Leanne, went into the hospital with pains. Didn't happen. She came home later in the day. I had been kept busy at work, and home, all day. The whole week had been busy. The pigs began to deliver their litter. Chickens, and ducklings, were hatched. The cat had her kittens.

Thursday night. Even though I went to be at a reasonable hour. I didn't have more than a few minutes sleep. I could hear Leanne, and BJ, discussing what they should do while she paced the floor. I lay in bed listening. Waiting to hear who would win the discussion.

“You can't have your mother drive you to the hospital You'll have the baby along the road.”

“No. I won't. Mum will have me there faster than the ambulance. We won't have to fill all the paperwork out. Again.”

“But. They will be there to deliver the baby. Your mother can't deliver the baby.”

“But she'll have me at the hospital for the doctor to deliver my baby.”

“Fine. Be it on your head if something goes wrong.”

A few seconds later Leanne was at the bedroom doorway.

“Mum. Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” I threw back the bed covers to get out of bed.

“I need to go to the hospital. I want you to take me.”

“Okay. Give me a moment to dress.”

Moments later. We were headed down the driveway on the forty-four kilometre drive to the hospital. Leanne rode with me. BJ followed behind in his hotted up, sporty car, thinking this would be a slow, long trip. But the trip was fast. And uneventful.

“I didn't know your mother could drive so fast,” were the words I heard when the passenger door was opened.

“I told you so.”

I waited at the hospital until the sun began to rise. I left to drive home to wake Nicole to go to work.

“Where's Leanne?”

“What do you mean. Didn't you hear all the noise?”

“No. What happened?”

“I had to drive her to the hospital. Didn't you hear the car start?”

“Didn't hear, anything. Has she had the baby?”

I drove Nicole to work. I returned home to feed the animals. Tiredness began to set in. I worked at a slow pace. I took longer than usual to feed, and clean, the animals.

I trudged slowly up the hill to the house. I headed to the bathroom to have a shower to wash away the smell from cleaning the pig”s sty.

Sleep was calling me. I made myself comfortable on the bed to catch up on many hours of lost sleep. I began to drift off when the phone rang. I prayed the ringing would stop. Hoped I was not being called in to work. On my way to the phone, I cursed the person who had invented the phone.

Moment after answering the call. I was on my way. Once again. To Mackay. “You are wanted in here,” I was told by the caller.

On arriving at the hospital. Again. I went to the desk to tell them who I wanted to see.

“So. You are the missing mother.” I nodded. “Come with me.”

I didn't know what to expect. I followed the nurse down the passage way. Where I ended my journey I didn't expect to be. I had been escorted to the delivery room. Leanne was holding back delivering until I arrived. A washer was placed in my hand to bathe Leanne's face. No one had asked me if I wanted to be in the room when my grandchild was born. Everyone seemed to take this for granted I would help. Not asking if I'd pass out on the floor.

Leanne had become a little stressed. The father was having his hand squeezed. Hard. He was being cursed. The doctor sat at the bottom of the bed waiting for the delivery of the baby. Summing up the tension in the room while doing my sponge job. I set out to cheer everyone with strange stories for encouragement.

“I don't want to do this,” came from Leanne, when another contraction came. “It hurts too much.”

“Did you hear the pigs complain while they delivered their litter? You have to deliver one, baby. The first sow had nine pigs. The second one had thirteen. They beat you on the baby stakes. So did the hens, and ducks. Even the cat has beaten you. She has her kittens. There's only you and Tammy left. You don't want to be the last one to deliver this week. Do you?” The doctor, and nurse, smiled while I told my stories. They looked at me like I was making up everything I said. “Come. You can do this. Concentrate hard. The pain will soon be over.” I soothed the fevered brow while she settled to finish the job.

I kept talking a lot of rubbish until my grandson was born. Leanne was pleased when it was all over. She had her son to be called Mitchell. I watched the proceedings. A bundle of new born baby was placed in my arms. When I could escape from the hospital, I had to travel home to collect Nicole from work.

2013-09-22T20:56:00.001-07:00

A selection of snap stories from my file.

Strawberries

The smell was to die for.

A heavenly aroma rose from the crystal bowl of strawberries which had been placed in the middle of the table. Coral set to dunk them in brandy before dipping them in warm, melted chocolate. She stored them on a tray to place in the fridge to set. She had planned to make more the next day. But. The rest of the strawberries didn't last that long.

Randy arrived home with a bottle of champagne to celebrate his promotion. The smell of the strawberries assailed his nose when he walked in through the front door. He dropped his briefcase near the door to his study. He followed the scent to the bowl of sweet nectar. Randy went to the cupboard to grab a couple of champagne flutes. He handed them to his wife. And the bowl of strawberries. He led her to the bedroom.

Coral looked puzzled when the berries, the flutes, and champagne, were placed on the bedside table. Her husband began to strip away her clothes. Then he did his own. He pulled back the covers on the bed then sat her in the middle of the bed. He crawled on to the bed beside her. Placed the bowel of strawberries on her lap. Opened the bottle of champagne and filled the flutes. He handed one to her. She waited to see what happened next. Taking a strawberry from the bowl he dunked the fruit into the liquid and held it to her mouth. She took a small bite. He ate the rest.

Becoming more adventurous with the drinking of the champagne. Randy moved Coral down the bed. He poured some of his drink into her navel. Dunked the fruit . Placed it near her mouth for her to eat. He drank, at licked, what liquid was left on her body. When the bowl of strawberries was finished Randy ventured out to the fridge to retrieve a few of the chocolate strawberries. He dragged them across her hot skin leaving behind a trail of chocolate. He followed the trail with his hot tongue until there wasn't any chocolate coating left. Taking a small bite he placed the rest in her mouth. Once the last fruit was devoured. The both of them completely sated. They went to sleep. The fruit of life did bring forth a life of another kind. A baby.

Snowed In.

“When did you find time to read a book,” Martha asked. She hadn't known her husband to read a newspaper. Let alone read a book. 'Where did you find this book? I haven't found any new books around the cabin.”

“You don't know, everything, my love. I have a few secrets of my own. Over long, cold winters when the ground is covered with frozen snow, I have to keep, occupied. We can't spend the whole winter in bed. Even though. I could come up with a few interesting ways to keep us happy.” Caleb patted his Martha on her padded behind. “We can go to bed while we wait,” he suggested, wriggling his bushy eyebrows at her.

Martha slowly turned to face him with suspicion in her eyes. Caleb didn't act like he was worried about the loss of their cabin. In the past few weeks he'd cursed sire threats at the upstart who had taken over the mountain. Revenge. That was what this takeover was. Caleb, and Martha, had refused to vacate the cabin. The new owner of the mountain was on his way to make sure they were tossed from their home of many years,

They had moved into the cabin hours after they had recited their vows to love each other until their life had come to an end. Had moved on to a place of peaceful existence. Their lives had been long, healthy, and happy. No trouble had entered their lovely, snow covered mountain. Not even a pint of blood had been spilled to mar the white wonder land. Now. Battle stations were at the ready. Swords, literally, had been drawn. Their home was being taken away from them. No longer will they be able to commune with nature.

“Mind telling me why you are certain Garth won't be here to take away our home? What do you know that I don't?”

“You aren't interested in my proposition.” Caleb grabbed his fur coat from the peg near the back door. Pulled his cap low on his head. “I'm going for a walk.” He opened the door. He stepped out into the freezing wind which blew across the snow covered scenery.

Martha worried while she made a rabbit stew to warm Caleb when he returned. If he returned. Dread settled heavy on her heart. She had a feeling the mountain wasn't happy. She could feel the mountain spirits waited for some dangerous happening. A happening which will explode the peace, and tranquillity of the whole area.

An hour, or so, after Caleb had departed from the cabin enormous explosions erupted to split the quiet serenity of the whole valley. The china in the cupboards rattled. Other china on the shelves rattled before crashing to the floor. Martha grabbed the pot of stew from the stove to shove into the sink to stop it falling to the floor. She raced to the front door of the cabin to look out over the pass. Martha cursed. She prayed. She watched frozen snow blasted skyward then rain down on the valley floor closing the pass.

“Oh. Caleb. What have you done?” Martha prayed for the safe return of her husband.

“I didn't do anything,” Caleb spoke from behind Martha. He had a broad smile on his face. “How would I know what caused such a disaster? Have you found any incriminating evidence to the fact?”

Martha threw herself into his open arms. She was pleased he'd returned all in one piece. Once the snow settles, they'd be able to live in their beloved cabin until the pass opened.

Martha, and Caleb, went to bed early, pleased they'd be safe for a few months. But Martha had not counted on how spiteful, and dogmatic, Garth was once he'd been thwarted. Caleb smiled a secret smile when he went off to sleep. The last laugh was his. A helicopter came flying over the closed pass around midnight with Garth on board. He smiled. He'd finally won. The cabin would be in his hands once the helicopter landed. So he thought. But he didn't foresee who he had as an adversary. When the helicopter crossed the pass. The echo from the engine set off the rest of explosions which had been set for such an occurrence. The whole side of the mountain erupted like a war zone sending snow spewing into the air. The cabin no longer stood where it had for centuries. Garth, and the pilot, watched in horror while waiting for the noise to subside. There was a giant black hole where once the cabin had stood on the side of the mountain surrounded by snow. The mountain scared forever more.

Over Sexed

Baby faced, over sexed, slime ball, Randy, set out from his home to sow his wild oats. Harvest destruction on the lives of unsuspecting women. Not one of them knew his plan to over populate. Sponge. Connive his way into their life. When he'd had his fun he'd move on to leave shattered lives behind. The mothers faced the facts. Each had to rare the children on their own. Caught with his trousers down. He is now being hounded by the media. Government departments. His own mother Randy caught to face up to what he has done. The hurt he has caused. He case aside his fatherly duty to raise his children. Now. Cornered. He has been forced to take DNA tests to prove he is. Or is not. The father of a line of children. His spate of fun had cost the government hundreds of thousands a year. The children are literally being raised by the government because he's not paying any money towards their keep.

Unpleasant Surprises.

The gravity of the situation reached the captain on the bridge. The hull had collided with some hidden rocks in the water. Blood-orange sun no longer shone down on the sea. Thunderous dark clouds stormed over head.

Guests hastily packed their picnic baskets to scramble for cover. Rain followed the clouds over the mountain toward the coastal town.

Sidelong winds finally moved the ship from the rocks into the channel of the small creek. Seagulls struggled in the wind while they searched for food. A not quiet eeriness surround the ancient inn moments before an explosion of noise, and lightning. A wall of water washed away an old part of the inn. An old gazebo situated a short distance away exposed a dark secret. There was no longer a place to rest for the weary traveller from the sun. Police dresses in all weather gear faced the grizzly task of discovering who had been buried in the simple coffin under the old gazebo.

Secret Life of a Fridge

Don't dare open your fridge door after dark. The gremlins come out to play with the germs. You take your life in your hands when you dare to open the door during one of their battles.

Jack, and his Germs, creep out to search the shelves for food. The gather the food left unattended on the table in the heat. Food the flies laid their eggs in the meat to germinate. Each germ spreads quickly to contaminate the rest of the surrounding food.

Sam, and his Gremlins, fight fierce battles to stop the germs from escaping from one section of the fridge to another. But sadly. The Germs reached the cheese to turn the outer surface to mould. The surface of the tomato paste became black sludge. Milk curdled before the Gremlins were able to drink it all.

I warn you. When you open the door of the fridge. Stand behind the door so you won't be splattered with the contents of a rotten egg.

So don't raid the fridge during the hours of darkness. You might be sucked into the inner sanction to be covered with Germs. Have mould cover you entirely. Your hair turned blood red with tomato paste streaked with black streaks. You'll smell awful. Pong. You'll be thrown back at the end of the long, fierce battle.

Beware of what you keep too long in your fridge. You invite the Gremlins. Germs. To enter to fight to see who can do the most damage to your system.

Promises

“Promises are worth. Nothing,” grumbled Jasmine, from where she sat perched high up in her favourite tree. She knew she wasn't suppose to be up there. “No one keeps their promises to me. I'm only a little kid. They always find excuses. I want to see the Wiggles. I'm going to see them. No one is going to stop me.” Jasmine stayed in her hideout so no one had a chance to break their promise. This time.

“Where have you been,” yelled her Mother, when she entered the kitchen. “We have been searching everywhere. We have to go to the hospital. Susan has had her baby. We're going to visit them,” announced the happy Grandmother.

“Who is taking me to see the Wiggles?”

“You'll have to miss the Wiggles. You can go next time,” promised her Mother.

“I'm going to the Wiggles. No one is going to stop me. No one cares what I want.” Tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. “I don't want to see Susan's yucky baby. She could have waited until tomorrow. She just wanted to spoil. My day. I hate Susan.” Jasmine stamped her feet.

“You can see the Wiggles, any day. Not every day you become an aunt.”

“I don't want to be an aunt. I want to see the Wiggles. I'm going to the, Wiggles concert. No one is going to stop me. She turned to stomp away.

“Come back, here, Jasmine. We have to leave, now.”

“Craig will take me. He won't want to visit the hospital.”

“Craig is going to the beach. The surf is up this morning. He won't take you.”

Jasmine stopped. Wiped the tears from her flushed cheeks. The sun shone from her to dry up the tears. He attitude became positive. “Yes. He will. I know a secret. I know what he and...”

“I'm ready to leave.” Craig came into the kitchen with his towel wrapped around his shoulders.

“Craig.” Jasmine cast him her sucker smile. “I want you to take me to the Wiggles concert. Mum has to go to the hospital.

“I can't. The waves won't be there, tomorrow.”

“Remember the last time you were suppose to go surfing. The day you and...”

“Come along, Jasmine. I'm sure I'll enjoy the Wiggles. I might even buy you an ice cream.”

“Can we go to McDonald's for the ice cream?”

“Sure,” Craig promised, shoving his sister out of the kitchen.