Part 5 in the Helena Series
“Ohhh,” Helena and Marlon sighed as the most radiant sun they had ever seen, appeared before them.
They gazed at the sun to see it transform into a smiling woman’s face so full of love that it brought tears to their eyes. A warm and gentle voice spoke.
“Dear children, I am called Tamar. Please, come closer.”
The two friends did as they were asked.
“My name is Helena,” Helena said without the slightest hesitation.
“And I am called Marlon,” Marlon added with equal enthusiasm.
“Yes, I know, my little wise ones. I have been watching you from above since the day you were born.”
“Were you expecting us, Tamar?” Helena asked.
“Yes, I was indeed. Just as humankind has been expecting me for thousands of years.”
“So, you are the long-expected Sun,” Helena said to her own surprise, as the words did not feel as if they were her own.
“Yes, I am,” Tamar replied, “and to the ancients I am also known as Sirius.”
Part 4 in the Helena Series
After enjoying the view at the bayou, Helena and Marlon walked back to the gardens of the grand old house. There they stood beside Grandma’s oak again. Out of reverence for the wise old tree, they hesitated to lay their hands on its sturdy, grooved bark. Instead, they stood there for a while holding hands. In doing so, they soon noticed how powerful the oak was even at a distance. It filled them with a sense of calm.
Moving from Australia to London in 1979 wasn’t as great as I’d expected it to be. In fact, it turned out to be an enormous culture shock. The roads weren’t paved with gold at all; society wasn’t as sophisticated as people made it out to be, the weather didn’t agree with me one bit, and above all, the people weren’t as friendly as the people in Australia. England seemed so backward to me, that for all I knew, I could just as well have landed on the moon.
A story on International Women’s Day 2018 about the power of the feminine
As long as Luna could remember, her mother had been consumed by grief. She knew what caused this, even though her mother never talked about it. Two years ago, when Luna was barely three years old, her father had returned from the civil war. Vividly, she remembered the men of her village in the mountains bringing him home safely. She also remembered her mother screeching when she saw how the regime’s cruelty had traumatized her husband.
Story no. 1 in the Valentine's Day Series
Angelica looked up from the plates that she was wiping with a wet, threadbare tea towel. She peered outside through the small window and saw how the morning sun danced on the puddles. Everything seemed so peaceful now, very different to the night before, when the rain from the spring storm had thrashed against the corrugated iron sheeting of her shack. The storm had been so wild; making her wonder if it would tear her beloved home apart. Strangely enough, it made her smile. It wasn’t much of a house, and yet, it and everything inside were very dear to her.