LJH
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Alex drops me off at the entrance to the sports complex. He'll find a parking and text me his location. I move slowly through the corridors toward Coach's office and I'm walking on air. Alex has made all this possible. I know there will be more possibilities and moments of happiness. I reach his office and there is one other person leaning against the wall in the corridor. Geoffrey Marx. No big surprise. I move past him and sit on the bench, trying hard to concentrate
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A cool breeze slaps my face. I am awake. The headache is gone. My chest isn't hurting. My nose isn't blocked, I wrinkle it; no cracking and the plaster has been removed. One other thing, Alex isn't holding me. 'Al?' I mumble. No answer. I whip my head around to face him. His side is cold. I call out, hoping he's in the shower. No answer. He's placed my prostheses on a chair beside the bed. I fit them, and head fo
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Alex opens my door and takes me by the elbow, 'It's okay, I can do this.' I remind him. He steps back immediately, 'Sorry. I'm always helping my dad. Instinct.' He takes my head in his hands and kisses my forehead just as a car passes.. 'Thank you,' he whispers. 'What for?' 'For coming back.' He kisses me on the forehead again, then takes my hand and leads me up the steps. The house has the unmistakeable aroma of
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We drive along the ridge that straddles the western boundary of the city. He turns onto a dirt road that leads to the precipice, stops and turns off the lights. Pointing upwards, he smiles, 'Take a look.' The night is young. The star-grained sky tells a billion tales, each story shining brightly; each story spanning eons. I have never taken the time to look at the sky at night. 'When last did you see such a beautiful sight?' '
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The weather has cleared. The grass in the centre of the track at Ellis Park Stadium, across the road from the University of Johannesburg, smells new. The blue sky, the sun, the sounds of the city, everything is washed clean, it's like life has been ironed out and deoderised. I expect Alex to drop me off at the stadium and leave me, instead, he follows me through the corridors and chooses a seat in the stands where he is able to focus on me without interruption. I atta
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Friday is overcast and raining. I feel rotten about leaving Alex. He leans against the door post and watches me pack my few belongings into his black kit bag. 'Are you sure you'll be okay? What I really mean is, do you want to do this?' 'I don't want to do this, but I have to. I can't bare the thought of not being able to run, and I have to go home. You know If I could stay I would, but I can't, Al. I want to stay. My parents, they'll worry.'
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I don't hear Mom calling. I don't hear the bedroom door open. I don't see the frustration in her face. My mind is preoccupied with images: meeting Alex at Patrick's party, the messages he sends to my cell phone, carrying me up the steps, the kiss and my reaction to it. 'Keegs, what on earth is going on?' She leans in at the door,'I've been calling you for the last two or three minutes. Your friend is here - are you ready for practise?'
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The text on my cell phone screen says: "I know u like movies. Wanna join me?" He's brave. I like that. I'm vulnerable right now. I like that. There is mutual attraction. But do I need to be reminded every day that there might be more to my feelings for Alex than I would care to admit. He has this knack of being around when needed, and I needed company. I texted him: "Yup." This is the start of it. The moment I throw caution to the wind, and express my tr
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He sends me a text at 23.30: "Just wanted to say goodnight. I enjoyed our chat today." I smile and return a text five minutes later: "Nite Nite. Thank you, sweet man." Sweet man? Sweet man! Are you out of your freaking mind? Change that. Make it...Make it...big guy. I fall asleep with a smile on my face, ready to take on the last few lectures before final examinations. I have to prove to the establishment that even a disabled man can make a difference. I wake up to the sound of my HT
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Charlie Manning Charlie Manning had gathered his knowledge from the only gardener he knew and loved, his father, John William Manning. He taught him when to plant, how to build a cold frame and hotbed, about soil and rocks and trees and weeds and grasses. Laburnum’s terraced lawns lined with perennial borders, stepped rocks and water features, hidden views of smaller gardens with statues and a yellow flowering ground cover, portrayed to Michael a place somewhere in heaven. An aspect of
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Laburnum The carriage slowed and the house came into view, a large crossover between the old and the new Victorian. A huge slate building built around a busy courtyard with several paths that led to the servants quarters. The stables, a laughing place with chatter and grumping of horses in the background. The inner parlor of the house, a sanctum of silence. The garden, the most delightful place of all with its perfumed colour and tall trees spread across the hills. If the ga
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BRITISH COLONIAL OFFICE - ENGLAND Lord Granville was one of an unseen few who advised Queen Victoria. The public had never seen him, never heard him, and would not miss him.A soft-spoken man, he carried the world in aging hands and was on the lookout for a coup to revive the confidence of his lost youth. At an age when retirement was in sight, he had not reached his peak. A regretful situation for any one with more to achieve. Leaning back in a brown leather chair, he tw
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This tale of intrigue, adventure and gay abandon, will thrill you as I take you on a journey from England to Cape Town in an original and absorbing tale of forbidden gay love.
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I reach for the door and climb into the car. As a rule I don't wear my blades everywhere I go. I decided a long time ago to carry around my normal prostheses. I place my Cheetah legs on the back seat. 'So, you say Patrick asked you to help him out. Don't you have band practice or something?' 'Tomorrow. Thursday is my day off from music.' 'You're lucky you get a day off. I don't know what that is.' 'You should try it sometime, good for the karma.' Every time he changes gears h
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THE CHOICE 2005 1 Your throat locks with emotion. You’re on your way to the wedding and you feel sick. After long periods of soul searching, the final decision to carry out this act must be quick. You’re nervous because after so many years of living in constant fear of being chastised, you finally have recognition. The office staff will be there, some smiling, some thinking how silly. The press will be there with ink as ammunition. If you marry, you will be blessed with years of
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Prologue Shooting stars. The night sky before morning is silent music. The blackness is deeper and sounds carry farther. The moon settles east over the mountains, and as we climb higher, she grows closer. The road is endless as it snakes its way into the Outeniqua Mountains in the Western Cape. I’ve had the holiday of a lifetime. We’re going home. We’ve travelled from Cape Town to Knysna, to St Francis bay and George on the east coast. Dad hasn’t taken a break since Ge
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The Story of bilateral amputee Keegan Mansfield.
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my condolences, cheryl. I lost my dear mom in March this year. She died in my arms. Funny thing, an hour before she passed on, she told me her body feels different. She asked me to rub her back. She told me to be all that I want to be. She told me she was dying. An hour later it was all over. I miss her terribly, but I have not wept like the rest of the family. She lived with us and saw her pain everyday. The rest of the family didn't. They cried bitterly. Still do. I miss her love, her warmth, her smell. Sometimes, even tho there is no wind, and all the windows and doors are closed, the candles flicker in the house. I know she is near. I find comfort in that. Go well my friend. I'll say a prayer to guide her on.
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three pillows - but i wake up with my head on one only. :wacko:
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how about Brad Rowe, Scott Evans and Brett Claywell all in the same room together
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am so looking forward to relaxing here on Sundays (and every other day).
