LJH

What happens when you think you've found the man of your dreams, only to find out much later that all is not well with the choice you've made?

THE LESSON My son, you once asked me what values I had learned in life, and I could not answer. Now, memory is not what it used to be, and before it fades completely, I would like to answer that question. As a young soldier during the 1970's, I was sent to a remote camp in what was then known as South West Africa. It was the rainy season. In the camp was a gravel landing strip dangerously close to the rising waters of the Chobe River. One evening I stood guard beside two Dakota's when seve

STories to be devoured. A soldier's outlook on life changes in one blistering moment...A friend rejects homosexuality...An Afghan woman's dash for freedom...A son steals ten bucks...

Flat roofed buildings spread from a point that became an entire continent. Michael smiled at Charlie as they surveyed the scene. An angry mountain roared at them as they rounded the bay. To the far right, Devils Peak stretched a long neck towards the sky. Table Mountain, like some ghostly apparition, filled the horizon. Clipper ships, tall masts and bloated sails, steamers and fishing boats, all packed with dark people wearing vests, cotton trousers and hats. The liner sailed into the harbour,

The room had four bunks and most of their possessions, strewn across the unused bunk, needed washing. Gordon and John played dominoes as Peter feverishly penned a business plan. His concentration had been undisturbed for several hours, finally he put the pen down and read the document out. They did not understand the wordy, technical jargon of the law as well as Peter Sheffield did. Phrases stood out dealing with their respective shares of the profit, and so they signed on the dotted line with

thank you Cheryl. I know you love Alex, but for both of us it's time to say goodbye. maybe I'll write the sequel by the end of the year. All the characters are now safely tucked away and waiting for my decision...

I walk between the graves, my torch guiding the way, noting the names and dates and reading inscriptions on thick sheets of granite. It’s earie, walking amongst tombstones in the middle of the night. The light from my torch catches a silhouette. His hand rests on the headstone. His head bowed as if in prayer. His legs are slightly parted and he's wearing nothing more than a loose fitting white t-shirt, worn jeans and sandals. His face is wet from the rain. I hear his words, they resonate with p

To my surprise the gate is open and the padlock is on the ground. Patrick stoops to retrieve it. I head on up the steps and knock on the door. ‘Who is it?’ A dry, solemn voice reaches me. ‘Erm…Hi. Is Alex in?’ There is no movement from within. Silence for a few moments. Patrick comes up behind me. The door unlocks and opens. The old man has thick silver hair, parted on the side, hair that matches his thin eyebrows and brown eyes set deep into sagging sockets. ‘Alex?’ I

You are a brilliant writer. Hooked, hell yes from the first sentence. You build the story and you don't let up and that's a point, raising left index finger and stroking the air. You've given Jake a light, airy, adventurous nature, and Rob Ellis beautifully paints his story. But then again, you are passionate about giving your characters soul, your plot a life, and reinventing style. You have steered clear from the stereotypical gay meets gay scenario and made yours different and consuming, I love the way they meet and then reintroduce themselves. They click. You rock ... Love this Notice how many times I have raised left index finger and stroked the air

There are aspects of this piece that really hit an emotional high note and as a reader I must be drawn into that emotion and care for the characters. You managed to lump my throat and gain a fan. The first sentence really hooked me, and from there it was easy sailing through the rest of the story. I love the way Chris stands up for his friend, regardless of the consequences. The violence you describe is a real problem in many cases of coming out and the father's reaction is, i think, more due to his homophobia rather than just shock. I enjoyed the read, and the writing is tight and economical. If there is one criticism I would suggest that you lengthen the scene where he tells his mother via dialogue or narrative, but preferably dialogue, because, as you well know, dialogue has the magic abilty of moving the story, any story, along. Well done. I hope to see more of your writing. Hugs Louis J

Welcome Jamie...hope you enjoy it here. The members are really fun and write across a whole spectrum of genres and subjects...but that aside, it's soooooooo cool to see you on GA...have fun bro...

Dinner was a three-piece affair in a curtained section of the dining room. Michael and Charlie entered the huge room and stood still for a moment at the top of the staircase that led into the dining hall. Pink walls and low, slithered crystal chandeliers, lamps and embroidered table-clothes, imported china and the wealthiest of the wealthy, Michael could not tell the difference. The plates and cutlery advertised the ship’s initials, GB. Framed paintings of different liners graced the walls and

“Tell me how it is you know him?” Charlie’s voice came from behind Michael. “Charlie!” He exclaimed gleefully, throwing his arms about him and repeating his name as though he had been gone a lifetime. Kissing his face all over, Michael told him it was Peter Sheffield. Charlie stopped him at once. “Not here, not in this place.” Michael stepped back. “I came here as a student. This Inn is for people like us. We appreciate the male within us, even those

Journey London’s fog lifted only after noon and then the rain came. The mist rolled in and filled the Thames. Michael enjoyed the hustle and bustle of dock life, where everyone seemed to be doing something, including buying tickets to board the Anthony Gibbs and Son Liner, The Great Britain. A steam and sail ship with the sleekest of lines and a single funnel headed for Australia via the Cape of Good Hope. This would be her last voyage before renovations would demote her to purely a

Patrick's voice is solemn. 'Are you okay? Where are you?' 'At the airport. Can you...can you pick me up?' 'Sure, I'll be there in twenty minutes.' I'm standing outside one of the exits at O R Tambo International. I'm exhausted. I'm not in the mood for team company. I'm not in the mood for anything. I just want to get home and sleep. This entire affair has been a disappointing nightmare. From the moment I met him I should have kept my distance and refused

I glare at Alex. Then back at the cell phone. I glance at him again and although my hands are trembling, I manage to back off a few steps. 'What's up, Keegs? It looks like you've just seen a ghost.' I hold up my hand, stopping his advance. 'Keegs? You want to talk about this?' I shake my head several times. 'Okay. Then I can't help you with this.' I manage to splutter a few words, 'That was Jean. Here, you want t

The library in Johannesburg is part of her cultural heritage, it's a large building in the centre of the city situated in a park. It's quiet, sophisticated, with a graceful staircase and mezzanin levels, sepia.The rooms were large and the research chamber, situated downstairs, was quiet. Jean paged through the archives and came across very little of an accident happening in the Outeniqua Mountains on the 28th December, 2003. She checked the obituary pages for that day and the day after. She ente

The house seemed to be deserted. It stood stark, with facebrick lines, burglar bars, an electric fence, and a remote controlled front gate. He needed to get into the house, but he decided it would be too risky, the electric fence was a fine detterent. It would be impossible to negotiate the fence. He knew nothing about the technical details that governed electric fences and he wasn't about to find out by experience. Patrick waited in his car, parked two houses away. Watched, and waited and thoug

He's not answering his cell phone. He's not texting as he said he will. I managed twelve messages, not one has been answered. My concentration, that lust to win has all but left me. He promised. Maybe promises are there to be broken? Maybe a promise is something that easily turns to nothing? If he can't get here, he should have phoned. An hour to go before the race. I fear that I will never see him again and a lump forms in my throat. Damn it! Why did I confide in thi

The Council of Elders informed him he would have special powers on the earthly plain. One, with a grey eye and a blue eye, told him to use them wisely. Another elder, a bald, androgenous creation, understood the human condition, a recently departed soul had much to learn, he said. But, Alex's situation was different, the council of elders concurred. He stood in the middle of the auditorium, in the centre of a circle with a black outline, listening to their arguments as to whether he should go ba

Jean turned into Patrick's driveway and hooted. His dogs, a labrador and a scottish terrier dashed to the front, barking and yelping for attention. He met her halfway up the steps, and leaned in to hug her but she pulled away, flicking the loose hair off her eyes. 'What's up?' He said, leading her into the double storey house. She took his hand and led him to the balustrade lining the front patio. 'Something's bothering me. I don't know why, but to me, Alex...well,

...And reappeared in the gardens of the The Green and Gold Sports Club. His untucked white shirt glistened in the afternoon sunshine. His blue jeans pulled down to just below the cut of his abs. His pitch black hair fell over his face, waving slightly in the afternoon breeze matching the colour of his eyes. The smile that had loved Keegan was no more. The soft aura of his being was no more. His soul had been laid to dust and now he had work to do. His mission; to dea

Alex stood in the doorway with a look of abject horror on his face. Broken windows, tables, chairs and picture frames met him as he entered. The TV and hifi system, thrown against the far wall, lay shattered on the floor. In the bedroom, his clothes had been ripped to shreds and strewn across the floor. The cupboards flipped over in both bedrooms, and in the kitchen, every cup, dinner plate and saucer had deliberately been broken. The note he'd found on the car's windscreen had been copied in hu

Have you ever awoken to a clear, azure sky, clearer than the day before? It immobilises. Have you ever heard birds singing and recall each whistle in your head like a song you've never heard? It's penetrating. Have you ever comforted yourself with the fullness of true love? The greatest love of all? Its rare. I have. Thursday morning is such a day. I wake feeling energised like never before with Alex beside me. I'm drowning in the strength of his love. It is the end of yesterday. It is the begin

Alex's skin has turned gray and his clothes are wet from sweating. He's seated on the bench outside Coach's office, wringing his hands, rocking his body. I stare out the window, taking in the view of the campus steps, students milling about, and the whiteness of the clouds forming mushroom heads in the distance. 'Kinetics?' I mumble. He couldn't have heard. Too soft. 'No. Psychokinetics. I move things with the power of my mind.' I turn to face him. He's