rainbow

Desert Roses

2018-09-04T16:42:00.001-07:00

I am trying to catch up on all the sites I have neglected since I have been unwell. I have had three trips to hospital between January and June. I am hoping there isn't any more this year. I have a life to live once I have finished cleaning out what I don't need in the house. I have sent a lot of to a charity. I also donated about eight crocheted rugs to the oldies at a home. I made them from wool left over from family projects.

I have started to revive some of my pot plants that I neglected while I was either in hospital, or unable to water them. Not too safe to try to water when using crutches. And I wasn't able to bend in certain directions. I had a knee reconstruction. Followed by a Kidney stone blockage, which cause a lot of toxins to build up in the body. I am slowly recovering. I do some work then sit at the computer. Or crochet.

These are some of the Desert Roses which have flowered this year.

Gee! The photos loaded fast. Usually they take a long time. I made a few changes to my camera. The photos may have been too large for the site to handle. Ah! Well. Never too old to learn something knew.

I had better go to pot some seedlings into bigger pots. I have had them growing in water on a piece of cotton wool.

Happy

2017-04-17T19:39:00.001-07:00

Real happy.

Having a replacement hip has helped.

I have less pain and worry. I didn't know what to expect when I had to have the operation.

I made the house ready for when I returned home. Filled the cupboards and freezers full with food so I wouldn't have to bother family and friends to help.

I now know what to expect when the next operation comes. Not sure if it will be a knee or the other hip.

I have just been to visit my GP to check my blood pressure. It was too low after the OP. Then high. I was put back on my medication. I was told I have the pressure of a twenty year old.

I have started back to my writing. I waited until the clouds cleared out of my head. While I have been resting, I searched for a publisher for my novels. I found one that sounds interesting. I made some inquiries. Sent one piece to see what I head back.

I have been clearing the weeds from the garden in between work, crocheting, writing and resting. I have only been back driving for a couple of weeks so life is slow. I am trying not to over book where people want me to go.

Its rest time. I'm going to have a little catnap.

Trip photos

2016-09-27T17:34:00.000-07:00

These are some of the photos I took when I went on a bus trip a week ago. The day was suppose to be different in destination but the area we were to go to had rain. Roads were dirt and deemed unsafe to take a bus to the area we planned to see. We plan to have another attempt in another few weeks if the weather stays fine.

Or I don't get a call up to go to the hospital. I have moved up the ladder a bit. Last week I went to visit the surgeon so I am now on the operating list. Well. Three lists over the next year. Right hip. Left hip. Left knee. I may have to go through a lot of pain but at least I won't have to live with daily pain like I do now. I keep describing the pain in the knee to severe tooth ache.

I have been slowly working my way through what I should do before I can't do work. In my spell time I am either working to finish the novel; crocheting and computer work. And have food cooked and in the freezer for when I come home from hospital.

I had a rough night and am feeling tired. I did mow the last few strips of the back lawn which I didn't finish yesterday. The mower ran out of petrol. And I run out of energy. The sky is clouding over so I might have just finished in time.

A friend gave me a beautiful pineapple yesterday. The smell was ambrosia. Really sweet and juicy. I peeled it and had a slice with my meal. It was so tasty I could have polished off the lot. I hid it in the spare fridge out of sight to make it last. I have to be careful when selecting a pineapple because some have too much acid for me to eat.

Winter bug struck

2016-08-20T20:14:00.000-07:00

The winter bug caught up with me. I thought I was going to be free on a cold. When I have the flu needle, I'm usually sick all the time until it wear out of the system. A few weeks ago I went down. I blame all the nightly wee walks. Getting out of a warm bed to go to the toilet.

But some good came out of this problem. Not being well enough to do too much work, I sat to do some crocheting. And writing. I placed the notebook on the table. The wool on the other side. I found doing a boring pattern where I don't have to concentrate, the words flowed.

The top rug I only had to join the squares together. Another member of the group made them. I did the last couple of rows to join them to make the rug.

The next four I did from scratch. I just mixed the colors together. Everyone was surprised I'd finished all this work over three weeks. The lady gave me more wool. This time I have a variety of colors. I have to start building the squares. I don't know how much I'll get done over the next couple of weeks because I have to catch up on my house work. Gardening. If it isn't chilly or wet. I have to find all my clothes and medical records, to pack, because I have to go away to visit the heart specialist.

I also wrote close to 10,000 words to move my novel along. I wrote by hand then transferred it to my computer.

Latest Rug

2016-08-01T17:22:00.001-07:00

This is the latest rug I have completed. I took it over to the lady who sends them to different charities. She gives me the wool. Some is donated. Other money is raised by raffling off one of the rugs. There was some discussion on whether to raffle it because the design might bring in more money for wool.

I have started making more squares to join together to make more rugs. I have about four stacks of different sizes. When the right size has been reached I'll join them to make the rug. I might do another one of the same shape once I have finished what I'm working on. It is an easy pattern once you get started. And read the instructions. Properly.

I have been out trying to catch up on the weeds but the back and muscles began to ache. At least I got some done. I will try again tomorrow, or later today, if the clouds forming don't send down rain. In the mean time I will do writing and crocheting.

Rugs

2016-07-24T17:56:00.001-07:00

These are a few of the rugs I have been crocheting to be given to those in need. I am with a group who do this. I don't go to the place where they get together. I work at my own pace at home in between doing my work and writing.

My lounge and kitchen, is usually the place where I work. I have rugs at different stages. I have a notebook beside me to work on my stories. I find crocheting clears the mind and helps me to think. Especially if I don't have to concentrate on the pattern. I stop crocheting when I need to add more to the story. At least, I seem to get more done in a day that way. I also break this with doing my housework. Which means. The sheets should be dry for me to go make up the bed.

With a bit of action I might be able to warm up the body.

Ah. My aching back

2015-04-13T20:18:00.000-07:00

I' been out putting my Desert Roses into bigger pots. Putting seedling into the smaller ones. I was pleased when the bags of potting mix were empty. Some plants were becoming root bound. I still have a few more to do.

I had planned to try to catch up on some other jobs but the sun has gone under making the day cloudy and cool. Plus the aching back put an end to more work. My body had reached the pain level telling me to quit.

Following are a few photos I took at Pelican Waters over Easter. I took about 300 over five days. I have been busy uploading them to where they have to go. And writing my stories for the month.

I will have past stories to complete shortly. I finally found someone to retrieve lost work from the mother board of the computer which died a couple of years ago.

Friendship stories

2015-03-21T23:17:00.002-07:00

Autumn Leaves

Friendship. Ah. Bummer.
At first glance the topic seemed. Friendly.
I read the first part of the instructions. The enthusiasm faded.
“Ah. Bummer,” was the next words out of my mouth. The brain cells shut down. How was I to write about broken friendships? Not too easy when I slipped in, and out of many towns, during most of my life. There was never a chance to form everlasting connections.
I researched words on the internet to do with friendships. Became more confused the more words I investigated. Even sayings had different interpretations.
“Close as the bark to the tree,” means intimate.
“Go between the bark and the tree,” is meddlesome.
“Hand in glove,” is conspiracy.
Platonic can be construed in different ways.
Finally, I went for association.
I met this lovely gentleman at one of my husband's social gatherings. He played the drums with magic in his hands. What I mean is he could make them talk. He enthralled young, and old, with the way he played.
His favourite piece was to do with a moving train. An old steam train. He'd start off slow with the engine moving away from the railway station. The gathering up of speed. I don't know how he achieved what he did. I had this eerie feeling of the train going around the walls of the hall. The beat of the train matched the beat of the heart. I was aboard the train in my mind until the last beat. Applause was always slow because everyone didn't want to break the emotional journey. I missed the demonstration when he died.
I went on a different emotional journey one Autumn day when I met up with his son. I hadn't had much to do with him in the past. I knew he existed. Never been too friendly with him. He created a bad name for himself after his parents died.
He lost his job because he'd become a drunk. Mixed with other bums. People who had chosen to live that way because of circumstances they were unable to deal with.
The golden Autumn leaves were falling from the tree. A chill wind reached every bone of the body. Not a great time to be sleeping rough. One man I had a feeling came from a privileged family. The second one was rough. The third one I knew.
I was shocked to realise how far he'd fallen. Like an Autumn leaf he'd fallen from grace.
How sad his parents would be?
I thought he carried alcohol in his bag.
I had to hide the shock when he showed me the contents.
Mentholated Spirits.
“Don't tell my father what I'm drinking,” he said.
His addled brain had forgotten.
How was I supposed to tell his father? He was dead.
I walked away. The three seated beneath the tree with leaves dropping on them.
Passed around the bottle. Life forgotten. Crushed to dust like Autumn leaves.

Hidden flaws

I didn't know.
There I sat minding my own business. I was there to do the bookwork for the selling of raffle tickets to raise money for the local ambulance.
I didn't want to be there. I had placed a time limit on my assistance because I didn't want to be seated in the lounge area of the hotel surrounded by. Drunks.
This had been my husband's job before he died.
Mine now. I'd help set up the number of tickets to be sold to make money.
I should have bailed weeks earlier.
I knew that the moment I felt I was being watched. The heat from his eyes burning into my skin. I ignored the silent challenge from him as long as possible. I had to raise my eyes to wait for the number when the wheel was spun.
The darkest brown of devil may care eyes twinkled at me.
I ignored him to carry on with my work.
He was persistent to overcome my not wanting to be the object of his next challenge.
I didn't know his name. Didn't want to.
I had never seen him among my late husband's friends. Trust in a strange wasn't something easy for me. Especially those of the male variety.
Eventually. We became friends.
Big mistake.
Before the heart became involved many of his friends told me all about his flaws. Dalliances. Bits on the side. The line of females he currently bedded. Even those who had husbands. Daughters of friends. At times he couldn't remember which bed he'd spent the night.
Each time we spoke I could feel the proverbial dagger being aimed at my back. This situation was hard on the nervous system because I didn't know when the real one would land. I like to live a peaceable life.
I had to find an outer.
I took a holiday.
My daughter died.
Kept away from places I knew he frequented. I suffered a few health problems, not from the friendship, making work next to impossible.
I had finally found my outer.
I decided to sell my acreage and animals.
I moved away from the area to a different way of life.
New friends.
I kept well away from entanglements.
I love my new life I've fought so hard to find.
The characters in my novels I can do whatever with them without them effecting my life.
But I still enjoy the company of friends when I need a break away back to the real world.
My friends, and family, are only a phone call away.
I had a lucky escape from living another dangerous life.
My first marriage was full of pain and suffering. No way was I going to take the third plunge to live in fear of abuse. Or death.
This time I knew of the flaws. I hit the high road to a peaceful life.

Emotional Clearance

For sale.
Going cheap.
Give away.
I don't want them any more.
Emotional baggage is too heavy to carry around for too many years. Not very healthy if you let the incident. Or incidents. Eat away at your nervous system until your health starts to suffer. Or your head is a dark place where you are thinking of ending your own life. And the life of others.
I once stood at the crumbling edge of a dark precipice.
Did I jump?
“You're made of sterner stuff. Don't take the next step,” came a gentle voice in my thoughts.
I stood at the crossroad where I had to make a tough decision. By the morning, I was shown a different path.
I'd moved out of the path of death to take the one to live to an old age.
The fear of abuse followed me for years until I found a way to release the pressure. Even though I'd moved on with my life the emotional baggage stayed buried to feed the hate in me for this person who'd crumbled my love to dust.
Time has come for a clearance sale. To clear out the rubbish to move on once again to a brighter life.
I hadn't known the whereabouts of the bane of my emotional destruction. All the hurt he'd caused buried behind walls of rocks.
A chance meeting with a friend, I was told of the area in which he now lives. The state of his health, and that of his wife, I let the last of the walls blast open. I'd never want him for a “best buddy”. I don't wish him ill wills.
I have decided to send him a few photos of the grandchildren he doesn't know about. The choice to cut off contact with his son wasn't made by me. I hadn't stopped any contact. I have never told our children of the damage he caused.
If he decides to bin the photos the loss will be his.
The hands of time have wiped away the last of the emotional baggage I've carried for far too long.
There will never be a great friendship between us. The first slap tore us apart never to be mended.
Time has come for a clearance sale.
I will pass on the information to my son. I have no intention of standing in the way of any contact between them.
Maybe time has come for the both of them to work out what is keeping them apart once given the path for them to chose which way to go. Before time runs out for them to make an attempt to clear away their emotional baggage.

I was always “wrong”

This was my day.
My husband swore to stand by me in our marriage vows.
He crumbled at the first hurdle.
I had gone through all the pain to deliver the first grandchild. A daughter, I had.
Mother-in-law started a war. A war of one-upmanship. Or should that be woman-ship. She had to be the first to buy a present. And the best.
On receiving the phone call to say the baby had arrived she went into action.
My parents drove her to the hospital.
I thought everyone had come to visit me and to see their granddaughter. I'd have lived to have been in the car on the way home to hear what had been said about my decision.
My mother-in-law has beat a haste trip up to the jeweller to buy a bar broach to have the name engraved on it. Right sounding name but, wrong spelling. She had asked the woman who served her how to spell the name.
Wrong spelling. I said so the moment I opened the gift.
I had seen this show year past with the name. I kept the spelling in my mind to use when I needed it. I wanted to spell the name, “Jody”, but I was howled down to be told that was the male way of the name. I fumed beneath wanting to show a peaceful demeanour. Didn't want to cause arguments between family. Or cause a disturbance in the ward.
“Why can't you use the way my mother has it,” said the father, stirring the dormant coals.
“There is no way I'm going to change my mind,” I replied. “She should have waited until she was told the correct way.”
“She wanted to buy the present before my mother.” I could see there was a long rocky road ahead.
She had wanted a daughter when she had her children but ended up with two sons. Now. She could do for her granddaughter what she didn't get to do for a daughter.
The tone for us not having a close relationship had started.
He wasn't her favourite son but she had him tied tight to her apron strings. I always I had married the both of them. What his mother told him was gospel.
Even the nursing sister I took Jody to to be weighed and checked each month, was wrong.
“She's wrong. Doesn't know what she's talking about. Baby powder is made for babies,” was her opinion. “I used the same brand for both my boys. I had no trouble.”
Most babies are born with a different set of D.N.A. What fits one doesn't fit all.
The rash went away with the use of creams.
The battle lines were drawn. There was never a firm friendship between us.
His mother was right even after I walked out years later.
I was always. “Wrong”.
In her eyes.

Sitting in the rain

2015-03-01T20:35:00.002-08:00

A couple of the photos I took at a slower speed to capture the rain. This was taken just a day before the cyclone passed through our area. The birds seemed too frighten to go sit in the trees.

We were lucky we only received the rain and some of the wind. The earthquake we had a few days before the cyclone was more frightening. I lay in bed waiting for the tiles to slip from the roof to crash to the ground. Luckily. They stayed in place.

Pays for her crimes.

2014-11-15T18:41:00.000-08:00

Mary: Sue. What're you doing?

Sue: Nothing.

Mary: What do you mean? Nothing.

Sue: You're not here to boss me around.

Mary: I never. Boss. I politely ask you.

Sue: I'm not listening. Da-dee-da. I'm going to be free.

Mary: Cut that out. You know singing isn't allowed.

Sue: You can't stop me. You're not here. So leave me alone.

Mary: Have you finished the work on the list?

Sue: No. I don't intend to do it. (Turns up the music.) I can't hear you. Leave me alone.

Mary: Back to the cellar you go when I get home.

Sue: You can try to make me. I'm never going back in there.

Mary: You will do as you are told. You know what happens when you are naughty.

Sue: I'm never naughty. You just don't want me to have any fun.

Mary: You know what happened the last time you went searching for fun.

Sue: You never let me forget. You witch. You did a bad thing. (Begins to sob.)

Mary: Stop that snivelling. You know I did what was right for you.

Sue: You did what was right for you. You dried up old prune.

Mary: Sue. I'm warning you.

Sue: You never had a man's love. Like I had. No man wanted a sourpuss. A demanding dragon.

Mary: So that's what you think of me. You will pay for those insults when I arrive home.

Sue: (Laughed. She'd done it. The sheet rope was long enough.)

Mary: Who is there with you?

Sue: I don't have to tell you anything any more. I'm out of here.

Mary: (Hears the sound of breaking glass.)

Sue. What have you broken? Do you have on your shoes?

Sue: Bye. Mary. I'm free of you vice grip over me. I'm going to tell. Mother.

(The voice fades away.)

Mary: (Panics. Shouts )

Sue. What have you done?

(She arrived home to find Sue's broken body on the ground covered with knotted sheets.)

Mary: (Has time to remember her sins against her sister, and her baby. She waits to die in jail.)

Do not take this as a true story. This was a part of an exercise I had to do for my writing group.

I left the screen door - open.

2014-08-09T18:30:00.000-07:00

I captured the invader on camera.
I went out to do some weeding in the garden. The weather wasn't so cold out in the sun with no breeze blowing down the street.
I came in for the bucket, and mop, to wash some dust off of the car.
A fluttering movement in the lounge room caught my eye. There he sat on the photos. The Butcher Bird had let himself into the house looking for someone to feed him. Or her.
I grabbed my camera from the table to take a photo. Then I had to encourage him outside with food before it pooed, or knocked down some of the breakables.

Dragon Fruit

2014-07-06T19:30:00.000-07:00

The farmer also grows Dragon fruit. The way they are grown was interesting to see. Dragon fruit is suppose to be full of Vitamin C. The inside is different. Some are white flesh with poppy seed size black seeds. He had other which were red, and yellow, inside. They are grown on a cactus plant.

He had a few cows.

And he showed us a prickly weed. Can't remember the name but it is full of large spokes. It gets a little ball on the stem which is full of prickles. The plant is very hard to get rid of. The tap root grows to over a metre into the ground. It is spread on the wind once the ball opens. Or dropped in the animal manure.

Once I have set this to upload, I'm headed outside to find some heat from the sun. The house is freezing. The muscles are aching. I need a warmer place to work. That way. I might get more work done. I suppose, if I had a laptop, I'd be able to follow the movement of the sun around the yard, unless the breeze was sneaking around the corners.

Alpacas

2014-07-06T18:26:00.000-07:00

Last week, I went on a trip to an Alpacas farm.

There were 22 of us on the bus. We left here around eight for the long drive out into the hilly country to reach the farm.

The owner had set up a tent, tables, and chairs, for us to have morning tea there once we had visit with all the Alpacas. He talked about them, and the wool they produce. The awards he's recent'y one at his last showing of the animals. We were allowed to pat them.

The first question I was asked when I said where I'd been was, "Did they spit at you?"

No. The animals were very well behaved. The owner treated them like family members.

A little black one was born three days before we arrived.

Boat Cruise Cont.

2014-04-29T00:00:00.001-07:00

Boat Cruise

2014-04-28T21:24:00.002-07:00

On the bus trip I went on over Easter to the Sunshine Coast, we went on a lunch time cruise. Lunch was served on the boat. Orders were taken. By the time we reached the destination where we were to collect out lunch order at the fish market, it was ready waiting for us.

The views of all the houses, and boats, were breath taking. And informative.

Easter Holiday

2014-04-27T20:49:00.001-07:00

The above photos were taken at the Seachange unit we stayed in at Coolum over Easter.

The statue of Elvis was in the shopping centre where we went to cat the boat for our lunch cruise.

Birthday Flowers

2014-03-07T22:54:00.001-08:00

These are the flowers Shane, Leanne, Mitchell and Jack, sent to me for my Birthday. They were waiting on the steps for me when I arrived home. I love the colour combination. Thanks for thinking of me.

Eyes See Cont.

2013-10-18T01:47:00.000-07:00

“No. I didn't. I didn't want to. I didn't mean to.” He covered his ears with his stained hands. “He made me do it. He killed you.”

“I warned you not to listen to him. I warned you about his powers.”

“Oh. Shut up,” Michael yelled. He picked up a bottle to slam against the mirror. Shattered pieced of the mirror landed in the basin. And on the floor. He laughed. “That will shut you up.” Michael stepped out of his shoes. Set the shower to warm. Stepped beneath the flow to wash the blood from his clothes, and body. He stood there until the water ran cold. His wet clothes lay in a heap on the floor of the shower stall. Calmed in his mind by the time he stepped out to dry his body. Pleased his mother wasn't able to see him. “Bloody pest.” He smiled. Pleased with himself she had been exterminated in body. All he had to do was be rid of the rest of her.

“I heard you, Michael. You may have hidden the body. But. You can't keep me quiet. Your secrets will be exposed. Eventually.” a hideous laugh echoed in the bathroom before she left.

“Ah. Shut up. I'll find a way to squash your spirit,” Michael cursed. He made his way to the bedroom. Found some dry clothes to put on. Slowly. He made his way down the stairs to the study. Michael went to the wet bar to pour a whiskey. Straight. No water. No ice. He downed the drink in one gulp. Went to sit in the chair to see what had happened since he last tuned in. Closing his eyes. He waited. Frowned.

The scene hadn't changed. Except there were a few extra people moving around the bedroom taking photos. Searching for clues. The wife of Billy lay on the bed with the dagger in her chest. Yeah. War axe hadn't been moved from the man's back. “Can't see his face,” flashed through his mind. “I wonder if...” A female scream interrupted his thoughts.

Sergeant Rowlins had screamed. The scream had left her mouth before she was able to stop it.

Everyone stopped working to stare at her.

“Haven't been to a murder scene before,” asked Detective Fireside.

“I've attended many a murder scene, Sir. But. Not one where a body. Moved.”

“Moved,” came a sceptical reply.

“Yes. Moved. Like he was rolling over.” She demonstrated with her hands. “When I screamed. The body feel back into place.”

“Dead bodies don't move,” said Fireside.

“Rowlins is right.” Heads turned in the direction of the photographer.

“Not you. Too. Burns.”

Ray Burns walked to where Fireside stood. He clicked the camera to show the proof.

“Well. I'll be. How did that happen?” Fireside looked closer at the bed. No way was anyone able to crawl beneath the bed.

Fast moving boots pounded up the stairs. A breathless Terri came to a stop at the doorway. Two officers were right behind her.

“What happened? Who screamed,” puffed Terri.

“You shouldn't be up here,” snapped Fireside.

“Why didn't you stop her,” he growled at his officers.

“Run, rabbit, run,” replied one officer. “Have you ever tried to catch a fleeing, rabbit?”

“What has. Are you trying to be funny?”

“He means. They didn't have a chance of stopping me,” replied Terri. “I was the one to find my sister.”

“Did your sister ever suggest she believed this house to be.” Fireside glares at Rowlins. She stopped talking.

“Suggest what,” asked Terri. “What have you found?”

“Haunted,” finished Rowlins.

Terri shrugged. “Never mentioned anything strange, happening. Who is the dude with the axe in his back?”

“Dude. He's not,” Fireside asked, with a searching look.

“No. He's not her husband. Billy is away. Suppose to be working on a new novel.”

“Have you contacted him?”

“No. He's unreachable when at the cottage. Doesn't like to be. Disturbed.”

Fireside walked over to the chair to search the pockets of the clothes. He extracted a wallet from the pocket of the trousers. He opened it. Cursed.

“Has your sister mentioned a man by the name of, Lindsay Cox?”

“No. Does he have a family in this area?”

“No. Not of this area.”

“Jessica. What have you done,” wailed Terri, turning to leave the room.

“Interesting,” announced Fireside. He stared at the bodies. All eyes were trained on them to see if either one moved. The chiming of the grandfather clock broke the silence.

“Where does the wife live,” asked Rowlins.

“How did you know he had a wife?”

“The way you looked at the photo you quickly slid back into the wallet. Might be his sister,” she suggested.

“Either way. They have to be told. And we have to notify the husband. Where ever he is,” said Fireside, wondering what other pieces of this tangled web was yet to come to light.

He started toward the doorway. He ordered. “Keep a close eye on the bodies until they are ready to be moved. I'd like to know who else might have an interest in the identity of the male victim. Have a feeling he happened to be in the wrong place.”

“Move it, Rowlins,” fireside called on his way out the doorway. She shrugged. Took off at a run to catch up with him. He stopped. She nearly ran into the back of him. He stared at the other weaponry on the wall on the entrance hall.

“I suppose we can be thank our lucky stars the murder didn't use the ball, and chain. That wound have made a right mess of the victims. Those spikes look deadly.”

“Do you watch a lot of gruesome movies. Or did you use one in a past life,” asked Rowlins.

“I see enough battle scared victims every day in this job.” He headed for the front doorway. “What do you know about past lives?”

“No much. Not my cup of tea, Sir.”

“Have ant idea what moved the body?”

“Wasn't moved with strings. Not sure how might weight a ghost can lift.”

“Ghost,” snapped Terri. “What ghost. I've never seen one. Is there...”

“The sergeant consumed giggle juice with her breakfast,” Fireside answered.

“We need the address where to find the husband.” Rowlins flipped open her notebook. She wrote down the address. Told them how to reach the cottage.

“Do you want me to show you the way,” Terri offered.

“No, thank you. Maybe you have other close family who need to know. Take Constable Snow with you. He can take your statement. And any other information the family can supply.” Terri walked on shaky legs knowing what she faced on seeing the family.

“Give your car keys to Snow. You're not in a fit state to drive.”

Terri walked around to the passenger side of her car. Opened the door. Got in. Closed the door before resting back against the seat.

“Where to,” asked Constable Snow, after he started the engine. Terri gave him the address of her parents home.

Billy was woken from his drunken stupor by loud banging on the cottage door. His head echoed in time with each bang. Muscles protested any movement. Billy had fallen asleep at the table his head rested on his folded arms. He groaned. His head didn't feel like a part of his body. Too heavy. Standing slowly from the chair. He made his way to the front door. The banging persisted.

“Stop the noise,” said Billy, holding his hands to his ears waiting for the noise to stop. “Where's the fire,” he asked on opening the door.

“Billy Marshall,” asked the strange voice. He slowly raised his head. Placed a hand up to shade his eyes from the glare of the sun.

“Yes. What can I help you with?”

Fireside reached for his badge to produce it. “Detective Fireside.” He nodded to Rowlins. “Sergeant Rowlins. We'd like a word with you. May we come in.”

“Why are you here?” Billy blinked. A thought flashed through his mushy brain. “Who sent you. Not many people know where I am.”

“Terri Wise gave us directions to the cottage.”

“What had Terri done. Why didn't you go to her family. Or Jessica.”

“Where have you been in the past twenty-four hours?”

“Here. I haven't left since I arrived. Why?”

“Your wife has been murdered.” Billy's eyes backward before he collapsed to the floor.

“Well. Done. Sir,” said Rowlins. “You sure know how to deliver a punch without using a fist.”

“Smart ass. Go find a bucket of water.”

“No need.” She walked to the tap where there was a hose. “Pull him outside.” She turned on the tap when she picked up the hose.

“You can't use that,” he said, shocked at her actions.

“Who said I can't?”

“I did.”

“Oh. Look at the luxury liner. What I'd give to be out there.”

“Where?” Fireside turned in the direction of her pointing finger. While he searched for the non existent ship to find a person on a sailboard, she turned the hose on Billy.

Spluttering.

Cursing.

Eyes See

2013-10-06T23:42:00.000-07:00

This is the beginning of a story I'm working on. Not sure how far I will get before the story runs out. So here are the first three pages.

Eyes See

My peaceful sleep was broken.

“Billy,” shouted a deep, demanding voice. The windows rattled from the vibrating sound.

“Who the hell is, Billy,” flashed through my mind. I didn't know anyone with that name. I'm not, Billy. Why did this person disturb my sleep. The unthoughtful beast didn't have the decency to apologise for disturbing my sleep. What galaxy did he yell from. One where good manners were in short supply. Where bullies ran rampant over citizens.

I rolled into a more comfortable position. Waited for my nerves to settle before drifting off to. Where?

A man sat on a chair. His head lay on his folded arms on a table. He had long, dark scruffy hair. Looked like he hadn't combed it. Forever. A bristly beard grew wild. An open bottle of rum stood within reach. A glass lay smashed on the floor. His clothes looked like he hadn't changed them. I sniffed. Had to block my nose with my hand. Phew. How long since this guy had a bath. Or was there another cause for the smell. Did another problem have him drinking himself into a stupor.

The picture changed. Where was I, now. I was in a different room. A more dapper man paced a lounge room his clothes splattered with mud. No. Blood. The spots matched the ruby colour dripping from his hands. Was he hurt. Where did the blood come from. Wildness shone from his eyes. He rubbed a bloody hand through his hair. Was this, Billy. The man the voice called. A chill ran through my body. I didn't want to see any more. I rolled to a new position wanting the movie to stop. I hate watching gruesome movie scenes. Or every day murder scenes flash across the television.

No such luck. The film kept rolling.

The same man forefront in the next scenes to be played. So. I'm assuming. He is, Billy. I might be wrong with my assumptions. Or am I to be Billy in another life. Stupid. Can't be possible. Dead is dead. Stop it. Go back to the movie. Where was I. Oh. Yeah. I was. Hang on. I wasn't in the bedroom.

I looked around the room taking in the floral wallpaper on the walls. The pink lace curtains fluttering from the breeze coming through the open window. Birds sang in the trees in the garden. A rainbow of flowers grew in a well loved garden. Ah. A peaceful place. I can go to sleep.

“Hey. Wake up,” an unseen hand shook my shoulder.

“Can't you let me sleep,” I mumbled. A noise penetrated my dream. A car. The owner must be returning home. I must leave. I don't want to be caught snooping. One more glance around the room. My heart dropped toward my stomach churning up my emotions. Oh. What should I do. This feels wrong. Wrong. Ideas flashed by but nothing came for me to be able to change the future of all the players. Time can't be changed to suit my ideals of life.

Unaware of disaster, the couple making love in the bed were happy. Stolen moments of ecstasy. They frolicked beneath the sheet pleasuring each other with not a care of the repercussions their actions had on others. The sound of a car arriving didn't reach them. Or the opening and closing of a door. The creaking of the steps. The man didn't creep like an intruder. Or a burglar. Laughter came from behind the closed bedroom door. The happy face of the man turned to anger. His demeanour changed to that of a fierce warrior. Rational thought washed away in a tide of blood. Before he was able to stop the action he has a dagger in one hand. An ancient war axe in the other. He stormed into the bedroom. The axe sliced into the back of the man. Blood spurted. Soaked the sheet. His dead weight lay on the woman. She screamed on seeing the blood. She pushed back the sheet to wriggle from beneath her dead lover. There at the side of the bed stood an avenger with a dagger raised. A face. No longer that of her husband.

“Billy,” she said, moments before the dagger pierced her heart.

A tormented Billy surveyed what he'd done. Blood dripped from his hands. A wild animal scream echoed from the room frightening the birds in the trees. They exited the area in a hurry to search out a safer environment.

“Run. Run,” an insistent voice echoed in his head. “Danger. Incoming missile moving fast.” Stomping boots on the stairs had Billy exiting. His mind confused. What missiles. He wasn't writing a war story. A blood curdling scream reached his ears on his departure.

Her stomach curdled. She vomited on the steps while making her exit. Taking a deep breath of fresh air to settle her stomach. No breathing cleared the vision of the scene she'd witnessed before her escape. She pulled the phone from her pocket. With trembling fingers she pressed the numbers for the police.

“Terri Wise. My sister has been murdered.”

“Did you say, murdered?”

“Yes. She has a dagger in her chest. The other party has a war axe in his back.” She gave all the details then staggered to her car to sit to wait for the police to arrive.

“Bitch,” cursed the dapper man. “She'll pay for her interruption. The nosy bitch. Why did she pick today to visit with her sister.” His pacing moved faster the angry he became. His work there wasn't finished. He hadn't intended to kill. “Now. I have blood on my hands. How come I have the blood. I didn't intend to kill. I wasn't there to kill. Calm down. What's done can't be undone.” He made his way from the room to go upstairs to the bathroom. “I need to rid my body of all this blood.” He walked into the bathroom. The moment he looked in the mirror, a face appeared.

“Michael. What have you done? Why do you have blood on you?”

“Oh. Go away, Mother. Why don't you leave me alone?”

“I'm ashamed of you, son. I tried to beat the devil from your soul. But your fathers black heart was too strong in you. I tried to protect you.”

“You didn't do a great job. I have to live with this hell every day. You weren't here for me, today. Where were you, mother?”

“You know where I am, Michael. You killed me. Remember.”

Herb's 80th Birthday trip

2013-09-17T16:57:00.001-07:00

The following photos are what I took on a trip to help Herb celebrate his 80th Birthday. We had morning tea near Howard. Lunch at Brodies in Gympie. We took a back road through Tucan Forest to reach Maryborough where we stopped to have an icecream. Have been a bit slow adding photos because I have been busy with writing. Had to finish over 6,ooo words for a competition. Thought I had finished. Then I was sent a notice about have a piece of poetry for another comp. Plus re-writing work to put on the computer which I lost when the other one died.

Fog and Clouds

2013-07-29T21:55:00.002-07:00

More shots of clouds. Some are take with a fog hiding the scene, and blocking out the morning sun.

Clouding Over.

2013-07-26T16:14:00.000-07:00

Photos of clouds I took recently on a bus trip. I was busy clicking while the bus was in motion. Cloud patterns has been a feature in some of my recent photos. For some explainable reason I have become fascinated with them.

Sunshine Coast - Noosa

2013-07-13T21:46:00.001-07:00

These were taken on our drive through the Sunshine Coast on the way home.

Novotel - Twin Waters

2013-07-13T21:34:00.001-07:00

Taken on my recent visit to the resort.

Novotel Twin Waters

2013-07-09T16:44:00.002-07:00

These I took on an early morning stroll around the pathways of the Novotel complex. A very interesting hide-away to commune with nature, swim, eat, and we had great service.
http://www.twinwatersresort.com.au/