A Mostly Merry Message...
To Mum, Dad, Mark, Fairlie, Grandma, Granny, Grandad, Uncle Graeme, Aunty Deb, Lauren, Sean, Uncle David, Daniel, Paul, Simon, Jack, Aunty Marg, Tanya, Chris, Samantha, Buddy & Holly;
My love.
You’re always in my heart.
To Paul, Kiel, Adam, Andy, Luke, Kate, Ian, Jamie, Steve, Hadley, Praveen, Luke, Matt, Daniel, Daniel, Simon, Owen & Karl;
My thanks.
Your friendship means the world to me.
My thoughts are especially with you and your family Kiel. I hope you manage to make the most of Christmas despite the awful accident yesterday. As ill-timed as it was, I’m sure it will bring you all closer together. I’m incredibly thankful that things didn’t turn out worse, because you are my oldest friend. I want to be writing about your great successes and accomplishments in life when I’m writing your biography, remember? So please do your best to avoid life-threatening situations in the future!
Merry Christmas to you all, and to everyone else whose name may also be mentioned next Christmas.
Yours jingly,
Dale.
P.S. 50 posts! Woo!
7 comments:
Merry Christmas mate, may it be full of ho ho hoes
A Second Chance:
She looked along the horizon; it seemed to stretch for ages. From where she was standing she could see it in every direction. This land was so beautiful yet so foreign to her. A gust of wind blew through her hair and she closed her eyes, cherishing the moment and enjoying the feeling. She didn't want to take life for granted anymore, especially now that she was here. A feeling of liberation, freedom and determination swept over her. She delighted in her refreshing newfound attitude. The past was the past, there was nothing she could do to change that, but she could change what she wanted now, in the present and for the future. The mysterious but always eventful future. Joyfully, she smiled.
As she started to descend from her lush green hill, she looked back up to where she'd been standing. Letting out an excited gasp, she stopped where she was and turned around, in awe of the sight before her. It seemed as though the sun was resting atop her hill, as if the hill was supporting the great ball of fire which gave light and warmth to the world. She shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked upon this wonder. The light surrounding the sun was a delightful mixture of reds, pinks and oranges. ‘This is so surreal’, she thought to herself. Her first sunset in this curious place was totally magical; she hoped it was a symbol of how the rest of her life here would unfurl. She committed this shockingly beautiful image to memory, and tore herself away from the real thing.
She was heading east; her instincts told her that. They told her also that soon she would encounter another person. She wondered what they might look like. Would they be strangely misshapen or disfigured? Would they be intelligent or primitive? Would they yield weapons? The thought struck her like a lightening bolt. The beauty of this place had distracted her; she was a fool to be so casual. She hurriedly searched her surroundings for anything that resembled a weapon. To her disbelief, the forest she had entered possessed nothing of the sort. Not even a sharp stick that she could use as a spear. Was this place so beautiful that there wasn’t even violence or pain? She settled for a rock, it was better than nothing.
Trekking on through the forest she passed several burbling streams and realised she was parched. Hesitantly, she crouched before one. She slowly dipped her hand in; the water was clear and cool. She cupped her hand and brought the water to her mouth. It was the freshest, cleanest water she’d ever tasted. Greedily she gulped up some more. Suddenly, crack! A twig snapped loudly somewhere near her. She immediately jerked her head up and looked side to side. It sounded as though the noise had come from behind her. Cautiously, she got to her feet. Behind her! How could that be? Had she been followed the entire way? Surely not. She mustered up the courage to swing around and face the direction from which she’d come. To the eye, the forest seemed as empty as before, with only the heavenly rays of sunlight shining through the overgrowth. But something told her that it wasn’t as empty as it seemed, she knew that someone, or something, was out there. Her hand drifted over the rock that she had discovered earlier, which she now had in her pouch at her hip. This made her realise how little she had here, she had a rock, and herself. Had she made a terrible mistake by coming to this place? Should she run back? Crack! Another twig, closer this time. No! She wouldn’t go back. There were more opportunities here, more promise. She hoped. Anyway, anything was better than where she’d come from. Her heart ached at the memory of her past, at the memory of the pain.
She shook herself, putting aside the awful memories for later. Because she knew they’d come back. Someone was here and she didn’t feel like a confrontation, so she leapt athletically across the stream and started sprinting along her intended course, there was something about the east… She didn’t listen out for footsteps behind her; she was totally focused on the course ahead. Suddenly, she noticed that the trees were thinning out; the forest was coming to an end. She reeled back, stopped and listened. Before her was a clearing. She heard nothing behind her, but could hear a faint buzz somewhere off over the clearing. She decided to inspect what lay over the ridge; she would have to eventually anyway, she told herself. Although she didn’t have trees as cover, the light was fading slowly, as the sun sank lower into the sky.
She crept slowly up the incline which was preventing her from seeing the rest of the clearing. She got to the top and lay on her stomach. She peered down across the clearing. What she saw brought tears to her eyes. Too happy to wipe them away, she stood up joyously and shrieked in delight.
“I thought you’d like it,” came a voice from behind her. She froze where she was, but kept smiling. The voice was familiar. She felt a hand on her shoulder. A strong hand. A man’s hand. Adam’s hand.
The garden below them was perfect, seemingly as good as the first. She could start again. They could start again.
That story turned out to be somewhat prophetic didn't it? And a lot more universal than I realised.
Thanks Paul.
P.O.T.W - stealer...
Hmm paul your writing is a bit sloppy, you can do much better than that!
Ouch Paul, ouch. That would have hurt. :P Give him a break Alex, that story was written over 3 years ago.. If I remember correctly.
It's ok alex, i don't wish to be a writer :), hence the reason for the 'sloppy' story...
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